


Time (Testing Limits & Breaking Through)

by TalesFromPerdition



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Anger, Angst with a Happy Ending, Babysitting, Growing Up, Ice Skating, M/M, One Year Later, POV Yuri Plisetsky, Self-Acceptance, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 97,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalesFromPerdition/pseuds/TalesFromPerdition
Summary: At the next Grand Prix, Yuri is determined to win by more than twelve one-hundredths of a point. But with only a week and a half until the Rostelecom Cup, Victor drags them all out to watch a stupid meteor shower. Someone should have warned Yuri to be careful what he wished for.How the Universe thought that the solution to his wish was turning Victor and Yuuri into kids, Yuri didn't know. But it's his fault, right? So the least he could do is try to keep the pint-sized skaters alive until they turn back.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I messed up the timeline a little. The Rostelecom Cup happened just before Yuuri's birthday in the show, but I made it about two weeks later. So this story takes place just a bit shy of a year in the future. Spoilers through episode twelve.

Katsudon's birthday had been two days ago, but not even the great Victor Nikiforov could make the meteor shower come any sooner. The way they were acting, though, it was  _as if_  the Russian skater had somehow made the hunks of space rock streak across the sky.

At their insistence, Yuri had followed the two of them from the rink to a small park near their apartment. It was December, and hence,  _freezing_  in Russia, and the blond pulled his warm up tighter against himself, eyes focused on the stupid pair in front of them, cursing them in his head.

He could hear the stupid shit they were saying to each other. All  _Russia is so beautiful this time of year…_  and  _Remember in Hasetsu when…_  and  _You did such a good job with…_

Yuri was so angry he was biting a hole in his cheek to keep from screaming. The bitter wind and the pain were bringing tears to his eyes. It wasn't anything else.

"Yuri."

Yuri turned his head, still glaring, to look at Otabek. If the Kazakh skater thought the look was harsh, he didn't comment. Instead, he just shrugged his shoulders, letting his leather jacket slip from his frame. Yuri felt his eyebrows raise when the elder boy held it out to him.

"What?" Yuri spit.

"Take it," Otabek said. "You're freezing."

Instantly, the blond shot a look in front of him. The piggy and his coach were still walking, hand-in-hand, oblivious to everyone and everything around them, but Yuri felt himself growing warm anyway. He took a breath in, held it, and when he exhaled, he made sure to relax his tense muscles, doing everything in his power to keep himself from shivering, from holding his jacket closer to protect himself from the cold.

"Not really," he tried to snap, but the best he could do was mutter.

He did feel himself grow warmer when Otabek shrugged – like it really didn't matter to him either way, Yuri thought, his teeth clenching – but instead of putting the jacket back on, he held it in one hand, draping it over his shoulder. Like the offer was still there. Like Yuri could just reach out and grab it, and be covered in the warm jacket, smelling like his best friend.

Yuri's hands were in his jacket pockets, and his fingers gripped the material so tightly it hurt.

"Ah," Victor suddenly said, turning as if he just remembered he'd invited Yuri and Otabek along. He held up his free hand, then pointed at a clearing in the park. "This will be a perfect spot!"

As Victor led them to the spot where he pointed, Yuri looked around. There was snow on the ground, but it was fresh. Until they walked off the path, there were no marks in it. About ten feet in front of the spot there was a small pond; it was already frozen over. In the spring time, birds and squirrels would be everywhere, but it was silent now. Cold. Dead.

But as he felt himself tensing up again, drawing closer to himself to ward off the bitterness, even Yuri had to admit it was beautiful.

Victor spread out a blanket – like that would do  _anything_  to keep the cold from seeping into their pants – and gestured for his partner to sit down. When he did, he turned back to the tag alongs. "Yurio," Victor whined. "Sit with us."

Otabek took a step forward, like he was going to accept the offer when Yuri yelled out, "That's not my name. And we're not sitting down. It's cold, you moron. The last thing I want is wet pants in the sub-zero temperature that  _you_  dragged us out in."

"It'll be worth it, Yurio," Victor started, "The meteor shower –"

"That's  _not_   _my name_."

A harsh wind drew over the pond and Yuri shut his eyes from it, but it was too late. He could already feel the tear slip down his face. He pulled his hand out of his jacket, wiping it away with the sleeve before it could freeze, or  _worse_  before they could see, but when he opened his eyes, Victor was still looking at him.

Yuri shoved his hand back in his pocket, biting at his cheek again and looking away. He was shaking, from cold or rage he wasn't quite sure. He hated this. He hated everything. Victor didn't have any right to drag him out here, with  _Otabek_  no less, to make him watch the stupid meteor shower while he cuddled up to his boyfriend. And he didn't have the right to look so sad that Yuri didn't want to play his stupid, idiotic, childish games.

Victor was still looking at him, and softly, in Russian, he asked,  _"Are you okay?"_

" _Leave me alone."_

"Look," Otabek said simply, raising a hand to the sky.

Yuri did look, and so did Victor. It was a single shooting star. Unbeknownst the the rest of their gathering, Yuri had never seen one before. Despite the tight, bitter feeling in his chest, he felt himself lighten. He wasn't shaking anymore, and he didn't think it was because hypothermia was starting to set in. It was so bright, that first meteor, streaking across the sky alone.

Once it disappeared, more appeared.

"Don't forget to make a wish," Katsudon stated, and as Yuri looked up at the sky, he could only think of one thing.

_I wish they didn't bother me so much_.

* * *

"Again."

It was early. Everything still felt tight, even though he had taken a hot shower to warm himself up when he got into his apartment the night before. He seemed as flexible as he did every morning, which is to say, more flexible than anyone else in the damn rink, but not as good as he felt after he skated. It didn't  _feel_  right. He was laid out on the ground, his phone in his hand, but his eyes were on Otabek through the little doorway to the rink.

Otabek was nothing like Yuri – he was the same on the ice as he was off. He was strong, proud, but withdrawn. Otabek didn't smile or wave during competitions. The fame of being the top skater in his country was awkward to him, like he couldn't believe that he had fans. He rarely fell, rarely even wobbled. He was strong, Yuri thought, resting his elbow on the floor, his chin on his hands. Did he already mention strong?

"Again."

Otabek nodded, speeding up as he moved to the other side of the ice, skating toward Yuri. When the taller man saw the blond, splayed out on the floor, he raised a hand.

The blond almost missed the gesture at all, his breath caught in his throat, his leg suddenly becoming tense, and he nearly rolled out of the stretch, groaning at his leg before he raised a hand back.

Otabek smiled before turning, starting the sequence he was practicing again.

Yuri sat up, looked down at his legs, frowning, and tried to kneed the cramp out of his inner thigh.

"Hey, Yuri?" Mila was walking toward him, and suddenly, the blond boy was burning at the thought of her seeing him cramp up, but she was looking down at her phone. When she got closer, she looked at him. "Have you heard from Victor and Yuuri today?"

Yuri felt himself scowling. "Why would I?" Mila frowned, looking out at Otabek. Yuri stood, following her line of sight, the growled. "Hey, hag, I'm over here."

When she looked back, she was still frowning. "They were supposed to be here at seven and they're not usually this late," she said, and Yuri hit the button on his phone. It was almost eight. "And when they are running late, one of them always texts me. I've tried calling and I can't get a response."

"They made it home last night," Yuri said, trying for dismissive, but it came off sounding weird, even to him. "I watched them walk into their building before…"

_Before Otabek walked me to my apartment,_  Yuri thought, glancing back on to the ice.

"You're not supposed to skate until 8:30," Mila said, drawing his attention back to her. "Will you go check up on them?"

"What?" Yuri whined, gesturing to the ice. "No way."

He knew it was a mistake the second he drew attention to the ice, to who was the only skater on the ice. He hadn't meant it like that. He had  _meant_  that he had to go out there in half an hour, that he had to stretch and warm up before that, that he was busy and he didn't need to walk in on Victor and the piggy  _fucking their morning away_ , but that wasn't really what he meant at all.

And Mila knew that.

"If you're so inclined to stay, then tell him."

"Tell who what?" Yuri demanded, but Mila shot him a look. Yuri ground his teeth together, tying to stare her down, but he didn't have the upper hand here and they both knew it. His eyes shot out to the rink, but Otabek was on the other side. Still, he lowered his voice when he asked, "If I go get the love birds, will you keep your fat mouth shut?"

"About what?" She asked innocently, but she smiled and walked away.

Yuri moved his skates, which had been sitting on the floor of the rink onto the bench, and slipped his sneakers back on. He would be right back, after all. He wasn't sure if he should try to wave good bye to his friend, but in the end, despite watching out of the corner of his eye, Otabek didn't look his way. This time, Yuri made sure to grab his winter jacket before leaving the rink.

Russia was beautiful in the winter, Yuri had to admit as he jogged across the street, holding up an hand when a car beeped at him. He slowed to a brisk walk, keeping his head down against the cold. The reflection of the sun on the snow made everything so bright it hurt to look, but that was one of winter's subtle beauties. His grandpa had always enjoyed the winter too. He used to tell Yuri that even the slushy, muddy snow in the road was beautiful if he could just look at it the right way.

As he got closer and closer to Victor's apartment, his mood fouled even more. Mila's reasoning for sending him made sense. There were times when he was a junior skater that he had to go walk to Victor's house and drag him out of bed, too, but it was different with Katsuki here. He was only sixteen, and why should he be the one to get scarred for life by what he knew was awaiting him. There would only be, like, three reasons why Victor would let his charge miss practice. One, they were fucking. Two, they stayed up too late binge-watching some stupid TV show and overeating. Or three, something horrible had happened.

It wasn't going to be option three.

As he opened the front door and started climbing the stairs to Victor's apartment, Yuri couldn't help but think of Otabek. He was skating in the Rostelecom cup this year, against Victor, which would be happening in a week and a half. Usually, skaters didn't show up so early, but Victor had invited him to Katsuki's birthday party. Why the fuck Otabek would want to go to that was beyond Yuri, but he came nonetheless. He would be training with them for a week and a half weeks, he tried to tell himself, so if he missed his chance to watch him today it was no big deal, but he was still mad.

Victor and Katsudon always ruined everything for him.

Yuri had a gold metal proving he was better than that fat pig, and he wasn't even worried about competing against old man Victor. This year, in just over a month, Yuri would be destroying  _both_ of them at the Grand Prix Finals. Hell, he'd be an Olympian soon enough. What would Victor and Katsudon think about that?

"Hey," Yuri yelled when he got outside Victor's door. He pounded on the wood hard enough to hurt his hand. "If you make me come in there and see you fucking, I'm going to slit your throats with my skates."

He could hear movement on the other side of the door, light steps, but also the jingle of a collar and knew it was Makkachin. The dog came to stop at the other side of the door and  _woofed_ , like he was letting Victor know someone was there.

But nobody else came.

"I swear to fucking god," Yuri muttered, digging his keys out of his back pocket. Victor's key was nearly identical to his, but he picked out the right one and shoved it into the lock. He fumbled for a second before pulling the door open and taking back his keys. Makkachin remained sitting, even once Yuri shut the door and looked at him, but his tail was wagging back and forth, anticipating the friendly welcome.

The blond grumbled and pet the dog's head. "So, did they sexile you?" he asked, looking toward the bedroom door. It was ajar, and Yuri frowned at Makkachin. "Am I about the be scarred for the rest of my life? I'm just a kid, you know. I don't deserve this kind of trauma."

Makkachin  _woofed_  again and stood up, leading Yuri through the apartment and toward the bedroom. The dog was able to slip through the crack, but Yuri stood outside, listening to any tell-tale signs that he would never be able to look either man in the eye again, but it was silent. It was only then that Yuri felt his heart speed up, hand hesitating on the door.

What if he was walking in on a bloody crime scene? Obviously the police would think he murdered his rinkmates in a rage. Shit, he was going to have to flee the country. Maybe Otabek would go with him, but the two of them together wouldn't really be inconspicuous. Or maybe  _they_  ran away. That would be so typical Victor, leaving town before a competition on some fantastical whim. Yuri growled and pushed the door open.

_That_  was not something he was expecting.

Makkachin was at the foot of the bed, and Victor and Katsuki were in bed, curled up together. At least, he assumed it was Victor and Katsuki. Stepping closer, Yuri tried to look around the blankets to see the kids better.

_The kids_.

There were two. One was really little, younger than a pre-schooler, probably, with a shock of messy, dark hair. The other one was Victor. Nobody else has hair like that. It was sort of longish, just a bit shorter than Yuri's, but he definitely just a kid. Yuri didn't spend enough time around really little kids to be able to guess his age, but he definitely wasn't ten. Yuri had seen pictures of Victor when he was ten and he was definitely smaller than that, and the novice kids came to group skate a lot. Ten was the youngest kids Yakov worked with.

Yuri moved closer, putting a knee on the side of the bed and moving the blankets down to see the sleeping kids better. Unfortunately, Victor's eyes shot open. His eyes were almost comically huge, and he looked terrified. His blue eyes shot from Yuri to the sleeping kid next to him.

"Hey, Victor?" Yuri asked, but he wasn't really sure what he was asking.

" _Kto ty_ _?"_

"I'm Yuri," he said. "A rinkmate of yours. Do you remember English?"

For a second, Victor looked confused, before he answered, "Da."

"Prove it."

"I can speak fine," Victor frowned. "Why not Russian, though?"

"He doesn't know it," Yuri said, pointing down at Katsudon.

"Who is he?"

A million things ran through Yuri's head.  _Nobody_  was the first, and he almost said it. Yuri knew he was a dick, okay? But he also remembered the Grand Prix last year. Instead, he bit the side of his cheek before settling on. "Katsuki Yuuri. He skates with us."

"His name is Katsuki?" Victor asked, looking down at the kid. For a second, Yuri almost thought he saw the same look on Victor's face as he always had looking at Katsudon. It was soft, but analytical, like he was trying to figure something out. Then, Victor extended a hand, poking the kid in the face.

"Ah, Victor," Yuri scolded, but it was too late. Katsudon was waking up and Victor kept poking. Suddenly, the kid's eyes blinked open and as soon as he saw Victor, grinning like a lunatic over him, he burst into tears.

Yuri froze. Victor froze, his eyes wide and his hands up in mock surrender. But the kid was  _crying_. He was looking everywhere, from Victor to Yuri, like he wanted to go to someone, needed to be comforted. But this was so far out of Yuri's skill set, he couldn't even think of what to do.

Makkachin stood up on the bed, crawling closer to the crying kid. It might have been Yuri's imagination, but the dog seemed to glare at him for being such a shitty caretaker (and human being), before lying his head down over the kids lap.

Katsudon's crying slowly subsided, and he buried his head in the dog's soft fur.

"Hey," Victor said. Yuri expected him to apologize, but he wasn't looking at the dark haired kid at all. His hand was on Makkachin back and his eyes were staring down Yuri like  _he_  was the one who had made the kid cry in the first place. "What's your dog's name?"

"He's not my…" Yuri started, but then just signed. "Makkachin."

"Makkachin," Victor repeated, moving his hand to rest on the top of the mess of littest kid's dark hair. Katsudon sniffled, but looked up. "Katsuki, this is Makkachin. And I'm Victor. And he's Yuri."

Katsudon whipped his head around so fast that Yuri thought that he was going to give himself whiplash. Tears were forgotten. Instead, Katsudon was giving him a huge, proud smile. It was something completely foreign on his face, and Yuri wanted to slink away from having that level of happiness directed at him.

"I'm Yuuri, too!" He cried.

"Oh, no," Victor said, rubbing his own hair. "This is no good. It will be confusing if I say your name and both of you answer."

Katsudon nodded, a frown on his face and his eyes watering again. "But… but…"

"Yurio," Yuri found himself saying, and both boys looked at him. "You can call me Yurio."

"But that's not our name," Katsudon said.  _Our,_  Yuri thought. Like they had more than that in common.

"But Yurio is nice," Victor said back. "Is a nice name for a nice grown-up."

"I'm not a grown-up," Yuri found himself growling. He couldn't bring himself to say  _and I'm not nice_.

"Yes, you are," Victor said. "You have to be like, twenty."

"I'm sixteen, jackass," Yuri shot back. Victor laughed but Yuuri put his hands over his own mouth like had been the one who said it. Yuri was quick to change the subject. "How old are you?"

"Six," said Victor.

"Three."

Yuri narrowed his eyes at the youngest boy. "Are you potty trained?"

The small boy turned red, but nodded.

Yuri was quiet for a second. For the first time, he actually started thinking about what he walked in on. It was insane. It was a bad dream. There was no way that this was real, and yet… Grandpa always told him to be careful what he wished for.

"Yurio," Victor said, sheepish little smile on his face. "Are you going to make us breakfast?"

Well, if this was his fault, then it was his responsibility. Yuri had been taking care of himself for most of his life. His grandpa lived in Moscow; he trained in Saint Petersburg. It was a nine hour car ride, shorter by train, but his grandpa didn't have the money for them to visit often. If he could take care of himself, he could take care of these two knuckleheads.

"Da," he said, standing up off the bed, pulling off his winter jacket. By the time he was at the door, both of the kids were up, but Katsudon took one step, tripped over his oversized shirt and fell. The kid peeked up, looking to his caretaker to see if he thought it was a big deal, but Yuri could already see the embarrassed tears threatening to spill. So he just pretended it didn't happen. "What do you want to eat?"

Yuuri pushed himself back up, hiking the t-shirt that fell like a dress on him, grinning. "Katsudon."

Freaking perfect. Yuri wished he had recorded that. He would post it  _everywhere_.

"What's that?" Victor asked. His shirt didn't drag on the floor but it went to his shins. He led the three of them to the main room, looking around before heading toward the kitchen. Yuri threw his coat over the back of Victor's couch.

"It's a pork cutlet with rice and a fried egg," Yuri said, and the other Yuuri got even redder, nodding. The dark haired boy walked next to the blond, almost a step too close. Even Makkachin was better at not getting underfoot. "It's not a breakfast food."

"Maybe for dinner then?" Victor said, shrugging. Katsudon just looked up at Yuri with wide eyes.

"Maybe," Yuri opened a cupboard, looking for something far easier to make than that. He found some cereal. He pulled it out, then went to the refrigerator, praying for milk. It was small victories that made life worthwhile on a day like this, and when he had them both sitting on the counter, he turned back to the kids before searching for bowls.

Victor clearly wanted to sit at the island bar, which meant that Yuuri had wanted to as well. At first, Victor held the chair steady, but the youngest boy couldn't pull himself up that high. Then, Victor moved around, wrapped his arms around the kid and lifted. "Put your legs up."

"You're not tall enough," Yuri said, grin on his face.

"Shut it, old man," Victor said, but without any real venom.

"He's too small to sit there," Yuri responded, feeling like an adult for not stooping to a name-calling match with a elementary school kid. "He's going to get hurt."

"Nuh-uh," said Victor freaking Nikiforov, the single most charismatic person that Yuri knew.

"If he falls and bashes his head in, you have to clean up the blood, then." Yuri turned back to the cupboards, digging through them to find bowls. When he pulled out three, he noticed it was quiet behind him. He turned back to the kids. They were comically frozen, Victor's arms still under Yuuri's arms, the younger boy's legs about out straight, on the seat but still a few steps away from actually sitting on it.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," Yuri insisted. "I'm not cleaning up your messes."

"But he would be hurt."

"I would get you a first aid kit," Yuri said, pouring first the cereal into the bowls, then the milk. "You could fix him up. If he  _could_  be fixed. You might just have to call an ambulance and there's no saying that even they…"

Victor pulled Yuuri away from the chair, letting him down until his feet hit the floor. There was a pink coloring to his nose, but Yuri was sure it was shame, not embarrassment. "That's okay, Yuuri," Victor said, patting his head. "We can sit around the coffee table in the living room."

"Good choice," Yuri said, following them to the living room with their breakfast. The two boys sat at the coffee table, and Victor picked his spoon out of the bowl, pointing it at Yuri like a threat.

"Nobody asked you."

Yuri went back to the kitchen to grab his own bowl, ginning as he went. He never really knew what Yakov meant when he made angry comments about him being  _just like Victor_ , but it was starting to make sense now.

* * *

Yuri finished his cereal quicker than the other two. Victor was trying to smooth talk Yuuri into talking to him, and Yuri bit down the comment that if the kid  _just_  turned three, most of what he said would likely be weird gibberish or lies. While the kids were busy, he texted Mila to let her know that the two were okay, but frowned just before he hit send. He backspaced and changed it up.

**theyre sick messes puking all over each other you owe me**

For good measure, he went back to the bedroom, grabbing both Victor's and Katsudon's phones, plopping back down own the couch by the boys.

Mila wasn't lying. She had sent both of them several messages. From Victor's phone, he shot a pure Victor Nikiforov message:  **I'm sick. I'm dying. Yuuri too. We can't come to practice. Yurio is going to take care of us. Spare him today, pleeeeeeeeeeese. Tell Yakov I'll make it up to him.**

It would be less of a deal for Yuri to miss practice, anyway. He wasn't competing in the Rostelecom Cup. Neither was Yuuri, but Yakov would be less worried about him because he technically wasn't his coach.

Mila texted Victor back first:  **do you need any more help?**  and then Yuri:  **you're going to stay and take care of them?**

So he responded, from Victor:  **nonono Yurio is an angel he can take care of us by himself but thank you**  and then himself:  **this is the most fucking disgusting ive ever seen them im going to take a million pictures and threaten to put them on instagram next time hes a jerk**

Mila responded with laughing crying emojis, and then he checked Katsudon's phone. There was something from Phichit and some drunken texts from Minako the night before, but he didn't know him well enough to fool his friends, so he left his phone alone.

He put both of their phones on the end table, digging his own out of his pocket. He had one new message, fifteen minutes ago, from Otabek:  **Where are you?**

Yuri wasn't sure how long he was staring down at his phone, but Victor was suddenly on the couch, moving close the teenager, trying to look at his phone. "What are you doing?"

"None of your business, nosy. Go take care of your dishes."

"No," Victor said, but instead of gabbing for his phone or starting an argument, the six-year-old just rested his head against Yuri's shoulder. "Do you have any real clothes?"

Yuri put his phone down without answering Otabek, about to snap at the kid about  _what was wrong with his clothes?_  Before he realized he meant them. The neck hole in Yuuri's shirt was pretty much too big for his shoulders and while Victor would likely pull it down into a dress, tie the arms around his waist and be fine, there was no helping them if they ever needed to leave the apartment.

But they didn't need to leave the apartment.

"He needs clothes, Yurio," Victor stated, calmly.

"How am I supposed to get clothes for a baby?" Yuri snapped, eyes still on little Katsudon. Suddenly, the boy's face angled toward the Russians on the couch, but he wouldn't quite make eye contact. He was red again, and Yuri frowned. Did he have a temperature or something?

"Buy them," Victor said. "You said you skate with us? So that means you have money."

"How do you figure?" Yuri asked, voice hard.

"You're too old to be in the juniors, and even the juniors make money. You  _win,_  don't you?"

"Of course I win," Yuri snarled, grabbing his phone. He searched back through his old pictures, showing Victor a picture Otabek had sent him of himself on the podium. "That was at the  _Grand Prix_  my first year in senior competition, so suck it."

Victor tilted his head down to see it. "Oh," he said. "You were pretty."

"What do you mean I  _was_  pretty, you –"

"Oh," Victor said, sitting up and grabbing Yuri's phone and dragging it closer to his face. "Who got silver? He's  _really_  pretty."

"I hate you," Yuri whined, pulling his phone from Victor's hands. The younger boy made a pitiful sound and grabbed at it, but Yuri was distracted by something touching his leg. He moved and saw Yuuri there, pointer and middle finger in his mouth, his eyes looking huge from under his bang. "What, Katsudon?"

The kid turned beat red at the nickname, and his hand tightened around the fabric of Yuri's pants, on the outside of his knee.

"Why did you call him a bowl of pork and rice?" Victor shot, but Yuri kept looking at the little one.

Finally, he got up the courage to take his fingers out of his mouth. "Can I see?"

"See what?"

"You?" Yuuri's eyes were wet. Jesus Christ, what was setting him off this time? "Can I see your gold?"

Yuri frowned, sure it was a trick, but he touched the screen, lighting up the picture again. This time, he zoomed in on only himself before showing the younger boy.

"Wow," was all he said. Yuri waited, wanted to ask for an explanation, but he couldn't draw his eyes away from the sight before him. Katsudon, the guy who was just twelve  _one hundrenths_ behind him for second. The fraction between them was nothing, and third point was like nineteen full points after. Yuri wasn't stupid. Victor coming back would present challenges, but he was sure the biggest challenge was getting Katsudon focused enough to actually compete, not Victor himself.

They  _both_  broke one of Victor's world records, after all.

Yuuri looked back up at him, He was smiling, and he nodded, only repeating himself: "Wow."

"Pfft," Victor said, no longer leaning on Yuri. "I have gold metals, too."

"In what? Club competitions? You'll be  _twelve_  before you can go to the Russian Nationals Youth Championships," Yuri said, looking back at his phone, at the unanswered text from Otabek, before hitting the power button and turning of his screen. "I went to the senior division at fifteen."

"So will I," Victor said, crossing his arms and falling silent.

Yuri looked back down at the younger boy, who had his fingers in his mouth again. But he was smiling around them, smiling up at Yuri.

He looked back at a pouting Victor and burst out laughing. Victor was  _jealous_. He hit the button on his phone, swiping to bring up the camera, just managing to take a picture before Victor, now red faced, started whining about Yuri laughing at him, which just made him laugh more.

"Okay, listen," he said finally. Victor had moved to the other side of the couch, his knees drawn up and his whole body facing away from Yuri. "I'll go buy you some clothes. Will that make you happy Vitya?"

"Don't call me that," He pouted. "Only my friends can call me that."

"You wound me," Yuri deadpanned, earning another glare from a pint sized champion. "But you know what that means, right? If I leave here…"

"I can watch Yuuri," Victor said, body language changing instantly. He was back across the couch, practically on Yuri's lap before the blond stood up. "Yuuri come up here with me."

Yuuri obeyed, climbing onto the couch and it didn't seem like he minded it when Victor sat right next to him. But his eyes didn't leave Yuri. The blond went into Victor's room, grabbing his laptop. The man didn't password protect anything (why would he? His password would just be something dumb like  _Thirsty4Yuuri_  and really easy to guess) so he turned it on and brought up Netflix.

"I'll put it on something for you to watch, and then I'm going to go. You can't leave the couch for  _any reason_  except to go to the bathroom. Don't touch anything.  _Anything_ , hear me, brats? I'm going to lock you in here, so don't answer the door if someone knocks. If I come back and you are sitting right here and you didn't touch anything and you didn't do anything wrong, I'll let you go outside tonight to take Makkachin for a walk. Got it?"

Victor and Yuuri both nodded.

Something deep deep inside him told him that he shouldn't leave. Victor was  _six._  A six year old isn't a babysitter. Hell, Yuuri was sure he wasn't even qualified at sixteen to watch the kids, but he couldn't take the kids out in those clothes to buy clothes, so he didn't have any options.

_Call Otabek_.

No options at all.

Yuri checked his phone, then bit his cheek.

"Okay, look," he said, slipping Victor's phone into his pocket, but holding out Yuuri's to Victor. "This isn't a toy so don't play with it, but look…" he opened up his own contact, surprised to see Katsudon had a contact for him with a photo and everything.  _Especially_  because it was a photo of him in Hasetsu, back when they had really first met.

Because threatening someone in a bathroom stall isn't really  _meeting_  them, right?

"See this little phone icon under my picture?" Both Victor and Yuuri nodded again. "If something very bad happens, you click that phone button and it will call me. But only do it if something  _very bad_  happens. Like if someone shows up or one of you are hurt."

"How are we going to get hurt when we can't leave the couch?" Victor said, a wild grin on his face like Yuri had been testing him and he knew he passed.

"Good," Yuri said, hitting the power to turn off the screen. He showed Victor if he hit the home button and swiped, he'd be right at the page where he could call him as long as he didn't play with it. He knew Makkachin would need to go out – it was already after nine – so he grabbed the leash and attached it to the collar.

The dog should stay. He would be a better protector.

But Yuri wasn't cleaning up after Victor's dog. With a scowl, Yuri yelled a final, "Be good," before he left the apartment and locked the kids inside.

* * *

Yuri wasn't a parent, and he didn't really  _care_  about Victor or Katsudon, but with every step he took away from them, his fears grew wilder and more unrealistic.

Would Victor drown Yuuri in the bathtub when he decided he needed a bath? What if they got hungry and tried to make food and ended up stabbing each other? What about if some serial killer with a fetish for skaters came into the house, looking to add them to his evil collection, only to find the children. God, Yuri would probably have to travel across the continent to heroically and selflessly save the kids, solve the murders, and be inducted into the secret KGB, which totally still existed.

Or  _worse_ , Yakov or Mila stopped by to see how they were and found the children. That would be so so so bad. Yuri could never explain that he was responsible for that.

Somehow, he knew this was his fault. His grandpa said there was bigger powers at play, and it couldn't a coincidence that he made a backhanded not-even-out-loud comment about how annoying the two of them were and how he wished they wouldn't bug him anymore and just  _leave him alone_ , only to have them turn into freaking kids who needed his total attention.

Unless one of those two morons wished last night to be a kid again. If that were the case and this was something that had nothing to do with him, he would be  _furious_.

What did Otabek wish for? Yuri thought, then shook his head, tied Makkachin's leash to a pole outside, promised he would only be a minute, and ducked into the store.

He was running on auto-pilot. Even though he was sure this was a one-night thing to teach him a lesson, it was cheaper to buy packs of things. He got a three-pack of solid v-neck t-shirts that would probably fit Victor and regular crew-neck ones for Yuuri. Underwear for both in packs. Pants were harder to guess, but he got a few pairs. Socks in a pack. It was only then that he had no idea what size shoes any kid wears. That's not as easy to approximate size.

He pulled out his phone, Otabek's unanswered text still glaring at him. If anyone in the damn country would be willing to help Yuri with this mess, it would be Otabek Altin. He was kind and responsible, he had a younger sister, and he would  _believe_  Yuri if he told him the truth. He would believe that Yuri was sorry for ever making the stupid wish.

Instead of asking for help, he just texted back:  **the lovebirds are sick and sent me for supplies** with a puking emoji, hoping it conveyed both their sickness and how sick Yuri would be helping them if the situation wasn't a lie.

Although  _was_ it a lie? They had sent him for supplies. They were sort of sick.

Yuri grabbed the cheapest shoes he could find in what he thought would be about right, but even though he'd gone for all the cheapest shit he could find, he still winced as the lady rang it up and Yuri passed over his card.

Sure, his mom had been famous, but he grandpa raised him. If she ever had money, Yuri hadn't ever seen a dime of it. He could barely even remember the last time he saw his mom, and his grandpa hadn't been wealthy. That plane ticket to Hasetsu to chase down Victor had cost him half of everything he saved while competing at the junior level.

Yuri took his bag and card and walked out. He grabbed Makkachin's leash and felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

**That's nice of you. Can you still go to the show tonight?**

Fuck. Yuri shoved his phone in his pocket to avoid throwing it. The hand holding the leash was gripping so hard, his knuckles were turning white, and the dog turned around like he knew something was wrong. Fuck, Yuri thought again, working himself back up into a rage that had been strangely absent most of the morning.

Last season, Yuri had been fifteen. Pretty much anywhere in the world they traveled banned him from drinking, so when everyone else went out, and  _invited him_  because who the fuck would care if one skater was getting into a club he wasn't supposed to be in, Otabek would frown, offering another idea for them to do so Yuri could actually participate.

It made him feel so little, so young. He was always proud of his age, he'd beaten them  _all_  at that age, but when Otabek would look at him sometimes, he hated it.

This was the first time they'd had any real time together since Yuri turned sixteen. He could get into the clubs and bars now, at least in Russia; they would let him buy beer or wine (no spirits until he was eighteen, but he was an elite skater and he saw what alcohol did to fools like Victor and Yuuri and Christophe, so he wasn't looking to get hammered) and this was going to be their first…

No, it wasn't.

It wasn't going to be anything but two friends listening to some rock band Otabek found on a flier somewhere around town.

He climbed the steps back up to apartment, got out his key, and let himself back in.

To his complete and utter surprise, Victor and Yuuri were both still on the couch. Victor looked up when he came in, but Yuuri's eyes were glued to the kid cartoon that Yuri had left it on.

"He had to go to the bathroom, but we didn't touch  _anything_  else, I promise."

"Good," Yuri said, taking off his coat again, locking the door (just in case some helpful rinkmate got some bright idea) and toeing off his shoes. He dropped the bag on Victor's lap and sat down on the only free spot, on the other side of Katsudon.

He put his elbow on the arm rest, leaning away from the kids. It wasn't Otabek's fault Yuri's a dick with his wishes. Besides, the Kazakh man would probably have a better time without Yuri anyway. He was just a kid. He didn't know much of anything about rock music, and he wasn't cool. He was a freaking prima ballerina. A goddamn Russian fairy.

From across the couch, he heard Victor clear his throat, but he refused to look at him.

It wasn't Victor or Yuuri's fault that Yuri was a dick.

Softly, in Russian, Victor asked,  _"Are you okay?"_

Yuri shook his head, but he said the first thing he could think of:  _"Leave me alone."_

By some miracle, Victor seemed to understand, because he just nodded, thanked him for the clothes, and dug in the bag. He expected a comment from Victor, Mr. High Fashion himself, but he got nothing. Instead, he grabbed the clothes meant for him and rushed off to the bathroom.

Yuuri still had his fingers in his mouth and was still captivated with the show.

"Hey," Yuri said after a second, reaching around the kid to grab the bag. "Katsudon? Can you get dressed yourself?"

Finally, Yuuri dragged his eyes away from the computer, to look at Yuri and nod, but then he frowned, taking his fingers from his mouth. "Not my shoes."

"You don't need the shoes now," Yuri said. He ripped open the underwear first, pointedly looking away as the kid slipped them on over the way-too-big t-shirt dress he was wearing. Then Yuri handed him pants, then ripped open the pack of shirts. "What color?"

"Black," he said, but flushed as soon as he said it.

"There's blue. Isn't that your favorite?"

"You had a black and pink thing on," Yuuri answered. "With your gold."

After a second, Yuri understood. His Allegro Appassionato outfit. Yuri smiled and held out the black shirt. When Katsudon lifted the old shirt over his head, he realized the kid wasn't as big as he thought he would be, for everyone saying how easily he gained weight. When Yuuri slipped his new shirt back on, he was really only missing the glasses to be a carbon copy of his future self.

"Thank you," Yuri heard himself mutter, but Yuuri just parroted the words back to him and turned back to the show. When Victor came out, he didn't look as showy as his future self, but he was kind enough not to comment on the clothes. He sat himself back down on the other side of Yuuri. They were quiet, letting the younger boy watch the show, but it was only a few minutes in when the youngest boy leaned over, resting his head on Yuri's shoulder. His hand, he saw, was spread across the couch, but resting over Victor's.

If he  _had_  to miss going to a the club with Otabek, this might not be the worst way Yuri could spent the night with Victor and Katsudon.

* * *

Yuri was wrong. This was the  _worst_  night of his life.

Victor could handle exactly one episode of that kid's show before he started whining about watching some Russian cartoon from fifteen years ago that Yuri hadn't even  _heard_  of. He checked Netflix, but it was no surprise that it wasn't on there. The adult version of Victor didn't have cable, so as much as he begged, Yuri  _couldn't_  just put it on some random channel that wasn't for babies.

Yuuri, around his fingers, said he didn't mind what they watched. Frustrated, Yuri showed Victor how to work Netflix. Yuri made grilled cheese and tomato soup for lunch, something that was both in the cupboard and requested by the youngest kid. Yuuri was also happy to follow him back and forth around the kitchen as he made the food and gathered the dishes.

"Can I turn it off the kids section?" Victor yelled from the living room.

" _Nyet,"_  Yuri yelled back. "If you don't pick before we get in there with lunch, I'm picking."

Yuri could hear him grumbling in Russian, but he picked something. It was paused at the beginning when Yuri carried in two bowls of soup and Victor's sandwich – Yuuri had insisted he could help by carrying in his own sandwich, and he was walking so carefully, like he was afraid to trip – but Victor waited until Yuri came back with his own food to push play. It was some 90s Disney movie Yuri had never seen.

Even after they finished eating, the kids were into the movie enough that they were silent. Yuri checked their phones again. Christophe had texted Victor thirteen times about some boy he met at a café, but Yuri left it alone. Phichit had texted Yuuri again, this time simply asking if he was okay. Yuri responded this time with the same excuse he said before  **yeah, just caught a cold**  and received an enthusiastic, and honestly, heartfelt get well soon message.

Then he pulled out his own phone.

He had new Instagram notifications, but he always had those. He had no new text messages, but he opened the app, looking back at Otabek's text from earlier. He typed a no, then erased it and changed it to yes, then erased it again.

**i dont know**

Yuri looked back up at the movie, but his phone buzzed in his hand almost instantly.

**Are they okay?**

Yuri frowned,  **theyll be fine theyre just babies**

**Are you sure you don't want me to help?**

Yuri found himself smiling. He could gush for pages about how much he would love Otabek's help but before he could start, a voice from behind him said, "Who's Otabek?"

"Victor," Yuri growled, putting his phone face-down on his lap. He could feel himself burning but Victor just cocked his head to the side in that analytical way he does.

"Oh," Victor grinned. "He's your lover!"

"Oh, my god. No, he isn't. He's just my friend," Yuri said. "And don't just  _say_  things like that. You embarrass yourself."

"But I'm not the one embarrassed," Victor said in sing-song. Then he draped his arms over the back of the couch, leaning closer to Yuri. "Invite him over. He can play with us."

"Play? We're watching a movie."

Victor shrugged, "We could play."

Yuuri turned around. "At the park?"

"Beautiful idea, Yuuri," Victor said, throwing himself over the back of the couch. He bounced, almost gracefully, then sat next to Yuri and crossed his legs. His hands were delicately on his knees, leaning toward Yuri with his shoulder, batting his eyelashes. "I'm sure Otabek would  _love_ to go to the park."

"Stop it," Yuri said, pushing Victor away. It wasn't hard, but Victor seemed to understand enough to move away, just a bit. He was quiet, and Yuri felt the need to fill the silence. "It's not easy for me like it is for you, you know. Me and Otabek aren't…" His eyes found Victor's, wide and blue, then he glanced down at Yuuri. He sighed. "I can't."

Victor turned back to the movie. Even Yuuri, who couldn't be following the conversation more than knowing they may go to the park, put his fingers back in his mouth and turned back around, leaning his back into Yuri's legs.

It was about an hour later that the movie got over, and by then, both kids  _and_  the dog were antsy. Victor was pulling on his shoes as soon as the credits were rolling. Assuming they would need the laptop later, Yuri shut it and picked it up. "Hey, Yuuri? Can you put your shoes on? I'll tie them when I come back."

The small boy nodded, dragging his shoes toward him.

"I can tie them for you, Yurio," Victor called, standing up and making a stupid pose by cocking his hip to the side and raising his hand with his pointer finger extended. "I'm amazing at tying shoes."

"You're the single most modest person I've ever met," Yuri stated, taking the laptop back to the bedroom to plug it in. True enough, when Yuri came back, slipping all three phones into his jacket pocket in case some emergency arose, Victor was carefully explaining how to tie shoes while demonstrating on Yuuri. For the first time all day, the young boy seemed to look with Victor with something akin to worship, which, of course, had been the longest Katsudon had ever gone without looking at Victor like that.

Victor stood up, reaching his hands down. Yuuri grabbed them, and the older boy pulled the younger up with ease. Even with their hands still joined, Yuuri turned to look at Yuri, kicking out his leg to show him his tied shoes. "See?"

"Good job," he responded, but seeing Victor's face darkening, he grinned and moved close enough to put his hand on Victor's head and mess up his hair. "Good job, Vitya."

He  _swore_  he could see color rising to the boy's face.

Yuri grabbed Makkachin's leash, snapped it on the collar, and put on his jacket.

"We have to make a stop, first, though. You need coats."

Yuri handed Makkachin's leash to Victor, and the boy practically skipped down the stairs. Almost as soon as they left the building, Yuuri tugged on his coat. The boy was shivering already, which, no surprise because it was December in Russia, but he didn't comment on the cold. He just held his hand up.

Yuri grabbed it. There was something about a small child giving him that trust that he couldn't deny he needed himself. But he squeezed softly, looking through his hair at the small boy. "Are you sure, Katsudon?"

Yuuri nodded, squeezing back.

Even more surprisingly, Victor didn't lead them to an expensive upscale boutique, but a thrift shop. Running ahead with Makkachin, he got there first, and his sure figures tied the leash around a street sign just outside the store. He was instructing the dog in spit-fire Russian, but when the slower guys approached, he stood back up and let them all inside.

Victor led them over to the coats, and bewildered, Yuri watched as he looked through the  _price tags_  before he finally looked at a coat. He had the practiced ease of someone who did this naturally, all the time. For the first time, Yuri realized he knew very little about his rinkmate. He was a five-time champion, he choreographed his own routine and helped create his own music to some extent, he always wanted to surprise his audience, but he was very forgetful. But he had never  _ever_  heard Victor talk about his parents, his family. He'd mentioned to Yakov that he was the best coach he had ever had, but he never mentioned coaches before. He didn't know anything about Victor Nikiforov until he was fifteen or sixteen years old, when he started leaving a real paper-trail of headlines and metals.

Yuri tried to be a little more sneaky about checking price tags on the coats for Yuuri. The younger boy didn't seem to mind. His fingers switched, so they were all wrapped around Yuri's pointer finger, but his body was turned away from him, looking out the big, front windows.

"How is this, Yurio?" Victor asked, holding up a simple, brown coat. It looked a little too big for him, and Yuri shrugged.

"Is it warm enough?"

Victor wrapped it over his shoulders, fumbling to get his arms in the sleeves. When he did, Yuri could see a bit of his older self in the choice. It was sophisticated, very much something Coach Victor would wear. His hair flopped in his face, and he pushed it out of the way, grinning up at the blond.

"Is it warm, Victor? It's not worth it if –"

" _Da,"_  Victor said. "I love it. And it isn't very expensive."

Victor held up his hand, and the little white tag stuck out from the sleeve. Yuri looked, sighing with relief when he realized they both had the same definition of  _isn't very expensive_. "If you're sure."

"I am," he grinned.

Together, they were able to pick out something cheap for Yuuri, too. Because it was winter, the coats were more expensive than the shirts or shoes had been, but it couldn't be helped. When they left, Yuri's spirits were looking up a bit. Victor wasn't being annoying like he had been earlier, Yuuri was needy but it was cuter now that he was just a little kid, and their bellies were full and they were no longer shivering.

Victor was singing just under his breath as he walked Makkachin, but slower this time, so the other two could keep up. The park wasn't far, and when Yuri sat himself down on the bench, Yuuri didn't need prompting to follow Victor off toward the swings.

He was  _watching_  them; he swore he was watching them.

First, they swung. Well, Victor did. Yuuri draped himself over the flexible plastic on his belly and moved himself back and forth, but he was still giggling. Yuri could hear him from the top of the bench – which was under a tree, and thus, not covered in a light dusting of snow – and he blew into his hands, rubbing his face, hiding his smile.

Then they moved over to the merry-go-round. Yuuri climbed on and even though Victor was spinning the thing, he wasn't doing it too fast. After a bit, they moved on again. He watched them until he could feel the bite of the cold in his face. His hands were in his pockets, so he didn't feel it spreading through his whole body. He was just about to check the time – if he was getting cold, the kids would be, too, right? – but something vibrated in Yuri's pocket, so he looked down for a second to check it.

It was Yuuko, but for Katsudon, not for him. The message read  **Otabek Altin is training with you in Russia?**

Yuri frowned, not sure how to respond. He read over a few of their previous texts, just to see how the other man texted, feeling a lot less guilty than he should about invading his privacy before typing,  **yeah, Victor invited him to my birthday. He's staying until Rostelecom. Why?** He checked it over twice, making sure he followed the same grammar pattern as Katsudon had in previous texts to her.

While he waited, he looked back up at the kids. They had already moved on, playing in the snow and chasing Makkachin around. There were a few other kids at the park. There were parents and some teenagers watching little kids. Some were in groups, obvious regulars. Some of the babysitters were sitting around, all looking at a video clip on one phone, steaming cups in their hands.

He should have stopped them at a coffee shop. Oh well, maybe on their way back.

Yuuri's phone buzzed in his hands, and he looked back down.  **I just didn't know** , she said.  **I just saw the picture he posted of Yurio.**

" _Fuck,"_  Yuri hissed, switching to his own phone and opening up Instagram. He flipped through about ten thousand other posts – none from Victor or Yuuri, no surprise – before he saw a picture of himself, and his breath caught in his throat.

Yuri remembered being  _freezing_  last night, so much more than he was now. He remembered his bitter, angry wish – he had two pint sized attention hoggers to remind him of that – but at no point did he remember enjoying himself. And yet…

He couldn't help but think,  _Is this how Otabek sees me?_

But he had to shake that thought away. He clicked the picture, making it bigger, but barely recognizing himself. It was him, alright. Blond hair. Green eyes. But he couldn't see the way he always felt. There wasn't a crease above his nose, between his eyebrows, furrowed to the point he could feel a headache starting. His eyes weren't narrowed; actually, they were huge, bigger than he thought he ever saw them. Almost like Yuuri's… when he was looking at Victor. There wasn't a scowl, but a soft smile, completely relaxed.

But Yuri wasn't looking at Otabek. His gaze was cast upward. This must have been sometime after the wish, or maybe right before, when he saw his first shooting star. He looked so  _young_. Yuri fought and clawed his way to look sixteen. The oldest he ever looked was during his exhibition in Barcelona. His body would be changing, soon. It had already started. He wouldn't be this slender, this short forever, and nothing excited and scared him more. Seeing how young he seemed, looking happy, up at the stars, he felt his face burn.

His hand clenched around his phone. Of course Otabek saw him like a child. Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?

"Yurio!"

He heard Victor and looked up. The kid was running toward him with another kid, a strange woman carrying Yuuri. He was clinging to her front as she climbed down the stairs of a slide, and Yuri stood on the bench seat and yelling out, "Hey, what are you doing?"

Victor reached him as soon as Yuri jumped down. He pushed the kid behind him, putting himself between the two. The woman was walking toward him, her face red and when she got closer, he heard Yuuri  _sobbing_  against her chest.

" _Great job watching him, asshole,"_  the lady yelled in Russian, stopping in front of him. She tried to pry the boy from her front, but he clung tighter. Yuri put his hand on Katsudon's back and when he felt it, he turned and looked. He practically threw himself into Yuri's arms, taking up the same position. Yuri never thought of himself as weak, but for only three, the kid was heavy.  _"I don't know who would leave a little shit like you in charge of their kids, but he was screaming up there forever."_

" _I was watching –"_  Yuri started, hellcat spitting at the threat, but the woman held up her hand. She reminded him of Lilia.  _Again, not good enough, again,_  wasn't on the woman's voice, but the look was the same and Yuri  _felt_  the same. Makkachin ran up to them, whining, and as the woman grabbed her own son's arm and dragged him away from Victor, Yuri found himself snarl, "Get your dog's leash."

Victor didn't hesitate, but Yuri was already turning, practically running away from the park and the shame. He knew he wasn't good, but he didn't need a stranger yelling at him in front of  _them_ , either. Victor and Makkachin caught up with him, breathless. Yuuri was still sobbing against Yuri's shoulder, and the blond shifted, trying to hold him up and comfort him at the same time.

"Explain."

"It was an accident," Victor cried. "I just went on the slide one. When I got down, he was halfway up. He was scared, but I helped him climb the rest of the way up. When he got to the top of the slide, he just started  _crying_."

Yuri was silent. He hadn't heard Katsudon crying.

"Sasha, that boy with us, wanted to go down so he was calling from the bottom, so I ran to the front and tried to get him to slide down into me so he wouldn't get hurt but he didn't listen. He just kept crying."

"Why didn't you call for me?" Yuri asked.

"I did," Victor said. "When I said your name, you looked up but Sasha's mom was already halfway up the ladder." Quietly, almost conspiratorially, he added, "She's a dick. Yuuri's fine."

But the kid was nearly hyperventilating in his arms. He  _wanted_  to believe Victor that she was overreacting, but… Yuri didn't sign up for this, okay? He didn't want to take care of these stupid kids. This wasn't his fault. They weren't his responsibility, and he didn't have to take this shit from random old hags. He was Yuri fucking Plisetsky, he was a Grand Prix gold medalist, and he wasn't a fucking babysitter.

"Where are we going?" Victor asked, when they walked past their turn to get back to Victor's apartment.

"I have to grab some things from my apartment," he said, taking the biggest steps he could, and Victor had to practically run to keep up.

* * *

It wasn't far, but by the time they got to Yuri's apartment, two things had happened: Katsudon had stopped crying, and Yuri had worked himself into a rage. He shifted the boy into his left arm, trying to fish his keys out of his pocket, but he couldn't do it. He was shaking, both with fury and exhaustion, but when he leaned over to set the kid down, Katsudon went willingly, though his fingers tightened on the bottom of Yuri's coat and his eyes welled with fresh tears.

"Leave the dog outside," he growled, and Victor looked up at him, surprised at first, before turning to Makkachin, whispering to him. Yuri didn't wait around, he unlocked his door and barged in.

It was silent and still in his apartment. The setting sun was shining in from the kitchen window, but instead of making the place feel cozy, it just highlighted the dust particles floating in the air. The place smelled stale, but it always had. Yuri never spent much time here.

"Don't take of your coat," he said, trying to bat Yuuri's hand away from his coat by swishing his arm but not actually hitting him. It worked, and Katsudon took a step back, right into Victor. The taller boy just looked up at Yuri, his surprise still on his face, but he nodded. "We aren't staying long."

He ran into his room and grabbed a backpack. He had an overnight bag that always stayed packed, and he threw it in the bottom, followed right after by a change of clothes for tomorrow. He tossed in something to sleep in, and then turned back to his closet.

Yuri was still flushed, and he crossed his arms in front of him, looking into the space like it had the answers he was looking for. Instead of looking for anything, he couldn't get that asshole lady out of his head. Fine, was all he could think. If he was shit at taking care of the kids, fine. He didn't need to waste his time being nice to fucking Victor Nikiforov and his fucking boyfriend.

"Yurio?"

"That's not my –" Yuri started, but when he heard the softness in Victor's voice, he remembered that it  _was_  the name he volunteered for the kids to call him, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He turned around, hissing, "What?"

Victor wasn't looking at him. Instead, he and the kid were looking at gold metal hanging on his wall. To be honest, the metal deserved more care, like a shadow box or something, but Yuri had hammered a nail into the wall and hung it from that. It was one of the few things he had displayed.

His costumes, his warm ups, his pictures of his family and anything Lilia printed out for him were stuffed away in his closet. He wasn't good at it. He wasn't good at anything, and he certainly wasn't good at looking at success and thinking of anything other than  _twelve one-hundredths_  of a point.

"What about it?" He asked, turning back to his closet. He grabbed a pair of pants that he had bought just for such an occasion and a shirt that barely fit him anymore. He didn't know what jacket to wear. He had his usual animal print ones, or the  _Welcome to the Madness_  one, but he really couldn't wear the latter. He hesitated before reaching forward, feeling the material of the white jacket he had been wearing the day Otabek saved him with his bike and basically demanded they be friends. He pulled it off the hanger and shoved it in his bag.

"You really did win the Grand Prix, huh?" Victor asked, and Yuri grabbed another jacket, a few more changes of clothes, throwing it all in the bag. He didn't give a shit anymore. Fuck everything.

"I showed you the damn picture."

Yuuri's fingers went into his mouth and he made a soft sound, but he didn't turn away from the metal.

"Your senior debut," Victor said. "Will I do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will I win gold when I'm fifteen?" Victor asked, turning around, looking at Yuri with a strange expression on his face. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he almost looked like he was in pain.

"I don't know. I can't remember you not skating. I was only five, but I remember your long hair, as a junior. By the time you're my age, you'll be one of the best skaters in the world…" Yuri started, but trailed off. None of this would make sense to the kid, confusing the past with his present and the ages that didn't match.

And how  _embarrassing,_  admitting that Victor had always been there, a fixture in his life. But it was true, no matter how much Yuri hated it.

But Victor nodded, like any of this could make sense, and looked back at the metal. Yuri found himself looking at it, too. He was so fucking proud of the thing, but every time he looked at it, all he could think about was Katsudon touching down during his short program. Twelve one-hundredths of a point. If he hadn't touched down… Yuri had wanted nothing more than Yuuri to retire, when he met him in the bathroom, sobbing because his  _fucking dog had died_  and he had a level of performance anxiety that Yuri himself would never truly comprehend, aching with shame at the mere thought of how horrible he had been, and to go from that to  _twelve one-hundredths_.

Yuri could never decide whether he deserved that metal or not.

"Me?" Yuuri asked, jumbled behind his fingers.

Yuri felt his vision swimming,  _You're better than Victor_  and  _You're better than me_  ringing loud in his head, but getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he threw more clothes than necessary into his backpack. "Okay," he said. "Let's go."

Unfortunately, Potya decided to wander into his bedroom, meowing in the soft, accusatory tone she had, and no holds were fucking barred. Victor, who was the very definition of a dog-boyfriend, seemed to squeal, and Yuuri, who Yuri knew had once owned a dog, dropped directly to his knees. Potya herself was a queen, and she didn't give a flying fuck about the two little boys who were suddenly enamored with her. She jumped on to Yuri's bed, daring any of the three of them to even approach her.

"You have a kitty?" Victor squealed, and Yuri winced.

"You didn't know?"

"I…" Victor started, then stopped. "Maybe? I'm not remembering things right now."

Victor, the bravest of the three, moved to the edge of the bed. Potya watched him with disinterest, and Yuuri crawled up beside him. Potya moved her tail, and Yuri adjusted the backpack on his shoulder.

"What do you remember?"

"I don't know," he whispered, still looking at the cat. Yuri decided not to press the issue anymore for now.

"Come on," he said. "It's getting late and we all need to eat."

While the kids finished watching the cat, Yuri fed her in the bowl in the kitchen, sure he would be back tomorrow, that everything would be normal again tomorrow. When he went back to the living room, Victor had Yuuri's hand and they were waiting by the door.

They were quiet on the way back to the apartment, like they knew what he was planning, that he was abandoning them. No, not abandoning. He'd be back, and it wasn't like they needed him pretending anyway. They would never even know he was gone.

Yuri didn't feel like cooking, even though his earlier intentions had been to make them something better than their lunches and breakfasts had been. As soon as he unlocked the door, the kids and the dog rushed in, taking off their coats and shoes (Yuuri draped his over a chair, then picked up Victor's when the kid ran off after throwing it on the floor), and the teenager went to the kitchen to find something that wasn't soup for them. He found a box of macaroni and cheese. The boys were still silent, back to watching something on the laptop while he cooked, and didn't complain, even though the noodles were a little too hard.

While the kids were preoccupied, Yuri dug out his phone. He only hesitated for a second. As usual, his blinding anger had simmered to a steady burn, but that woman's voice kept coming back into his head.  _Asshole… asshole... asshole._  If she thought he wasn't doing a good enough job of watching them, then she hadn't seen  _anything_  yet.

**Pick me up at 9?**

Victor barked out a laugh at whatever show they were watching, which caused Yuuri to look up at him, not getting the joke, but laughing with him. The kid was fading fast, though. Both of them were. Suddenly, Yuri wondered if they were supposed to have taken a nap earlier. Kids took naps, right? It was just another thing that made him feel like he was shit at this, too.

Otabek responded quickly, as he always did,  **Sure. They feel better?**

**im going to kill them if i dont take a break** , Yuri responded, knowing how Otabek would take it, but it was less of a threat than a fear. One of them would fall off the top of a slide and die and it would be Yuri's fault for not watching them.

**I'll pick you up** , Otabek wrote.  **At Victor's?**

Yuri confirmed and then sat his phone down. Yuuri was done eating and his head was down, resting on his crossed arms of the table. Yuri couldn't see him from the couch, but he imagined his eyes were at least half closed. Victor was leaning back against the couch, arms wrapped around his knees. He yawned.

"It's time for bed," Yuri announced, expecting a fight, but Victor just nodded. "Do you want a bath?"

"Tomorrow," Victor responded, but he stood. Yuri stood too, picking Katsudon up by his biceps and settling him against his hip to carry him to the bathroom. The youngest boy just sighed, resting his head against Yuri's shoulder and wrapping his tiny arm around his neck. When he walked into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of them in the mirror. Katsudon's eyes were closed, and Yuri's face was pink.

Yuri sat the kid down on the counter. He looked at the two toothbrushes sitting in the jar next to the sink and reached out, but drew his hand back. He didn't know which belonged to who.

Victor walked in and grabbed the purple one without hesitation. He wetted it under the sink and started putting on the toothpaste, as if on autopilot. Yuri grabbed the other one and got it ready before handing it to Yuuri. The boy took it, but before he put it in his mouth, he pointed it at the blond. "Where's yours?"

Yuri went back to his backpack and grabbed his go bag. When he came back, both of them were brushing their teeth. Yuri did, too. He watched them in the mirror: two kids getting ready to go to bed and one getting ready to go  _out_. He felt like them, like a child, like he had no idea what he was going to do. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wondered if this was how normal teenagers felt. Nervous, a bit, but not like before a competition. Anxious, but happy, but also terrified.

The kids went to bed with no fight – Yuri couldn't even believe his luck – and neither of them cried about sharing a bed. (Should they share the bed? Yuri wondered. It was, after all,  _their_  bed, but he didn't know what was appropriate when a couple turned back into children together.) But Yuuri did whine when the teenager tucked them in and started moving away.

"What?" He asked, as gently as he could. "You want some water?"

"You're not sleeping, too?" Yuuri asked but Victor let out a tired huff of a laugh.

"Grown ups don't go to bed this early," he said. "He's not tired yet."

"Oh," Yuuri said softly, turning over to burry his face into Makkachin's side.

This time, Yuri got almost all the way out of the room. He was shutting the door when Victor called his name. He had to really listen to hear it, but the question hung on the air, and Yuri wasn't sure how to answer it.

"Yurio, can we go skating tomorrow?"

He settled for, "Maybe."

When he finally escaped the room and shut the door, he walked back to his backpack, checking his phone for the time. It was already eight-thirty. He was quick to get dressed, too quick, he realized, when he was ready to leave and still had twenty minutes. He tried on a few different jackets, studying himself in the mirror, but nothing made him look any different, any older. Instead, Yuri slipped on the jacket he had packed for tonight, rolling up the sleeves to the middle of his forearms. It was too light of a jacket to wear in this weather though, so he grabbed his coat, too.

In the end, he just gave up. He slipped on his shoes, then slipped out the door.

By the time he left the apartment building, Yuri had already pulled his coat around him. This time, he was smart enough to bring gloves, but frowned when he saw Otabek leaning against the building, his motorcycle nowhere in sight.

The older teen wasn't looking toward the door, but down the street. It was colder now than it had been when he took the kids to the park, and Yuri saw a puff of breath escape Otabek's lips. For half a second, Yuri thought he was smoking, but a glance down at his hands (fingerless gloves, seriously? What protection would those offer against the cold?) proved it was just the condensation from his breath.

Even though Yuri had seen him earlier that morning, had seen him yesterday, he never let himself have a second to appreciate how different the man looked since his Grand Prix loss last year. His hair had grown on the top, but it was still shaved on the sides. Once, during practice, he had pulled it back and into a little bun. All Yuri could think about was getting his fingers in it,  _braiding_  it, but the Fairy of Russia look wouldn't suit the Hero of Kazakhstan.

Still.

Somehow, Otabek looked calmer. He had placed first in Skate Canada earlier in the season, but nobody, except Yuri maybe, expected him to beat Victor in the upcoming Rostelecom Cup. Well, Yuri thought, barking out an angry, bitter laughter, Otabek should have no problem beating a six year old.

The older teen turned at the sound of Yuri's laugh. His expression remained unchanged, no forced smile (however comforting that might be, Yuri could appreciate that his only friend wasn't fake, ever, almost to the point of unkindness), but he did nod.

" _Privyet,"_  Otabek said, pushing off the wall and taking a step toward the shorter boy.

Yuri nodded back, "Hey. No bike?"

"Too cold," Otabek said, walking away from Yuri, walking up the street. A pace behind, Yuri followed. They didn't say anything – Jesus Christ, they never talked aloud, did they? – but Yuri took the front of his hood in his hands, pulling it lower over his forehead before shoving his hands in his pockets. When they got to one of the major streets a block away, Otabek walked up to the side of the road, raising his arm.

It wasn't until a cab pulled up that Yuri even knew what he was trying to do. Otabek opened the back door, holding it open, so the smaller boy could crawl through. When seated, he looked out the window, toward the lights of the shops that were still open. He put his elbow on the door, chin on his hand, feeling light and warm in a way he hadn't been before.

He felt the seat shift beside him and heard the door shut. Otabek's Russian was fluent, even though Kazakhstan had been independent from Russia for years before Otabek was born. It wasn't something he advertised, something Yuri didn't know until the man started training with them this past week, and the blond was never more grateful that he hated Victor too much to talk to him about the man before he knew Otabek understood everything he said,  _always_. When the car pulled away from the curb and into traffic, Yuri watched as the city blended in a stream of soft snowfall and lights.

"What?" Otabek asked.

Yuri turned at him, frowning.

"You're…" he started, then paused. He looked at Yuri for a long moment, then shrugged. "How are the babies?"

"The  _what?_ "

Otabek frowned harder, gesturing behind him. "You said Victor and Yuuri were sick and acting like babies."

"Oh," Yuri sighed, leaning back against the seat, sighing. "They were sleeping when I left."

They were quiet again for a while, and when the cab pulled up to the side of the road, Otabek paid with a soft,  _"Spacibo,"_  and Yuri felt like he was in a daze as he crawled from the back seat. The cab drove away after Otabek shut the door, and Yuri felt a gentle hand on his back, guiding him toward the bar.

Nobody was waiting at the door to proof them – something Yuri vented about when he was with Phichit and Yuuri at Skate America, as it meant he couldn't go in the stupid bar, which meant the other two acted like saints, not going in just so they could stay together, even though Yuri would rather run around  _alone_  than with  _them_  – but even if they had been waiting here at the door, Yuri had his ID. Instead, he kept his head low, walking across the threshold as his friend held the door open.

The band was already playing. It was some American rock song that Yuri didn't know. Otabek walked passed him, and the blond followed. The bar was pretty full, but not bursting at the seams. Most of the people were chatting at the bar, not even paying attention to the loud music coming from the small stage right in the front, near the windows. Yuri couldn't draw his eyes away from them, bringing his hands to his head, taking his hood off.

Music was a weird thing to Yuri. He liked music. He listened to it when he stretched, when he warmed up, when he danced in Lilia's studio. It wasn't like with Leo; honestly, Yuri never thought much to what he skated to. The only thing he ever cared for was  _Welcome to the Madness_ , but he had only listened to that song a handful of times. Once the night before the exhibition, when Otabek introduced him to it. Once during his actual exhibition, and every time he tried to listen to it since, all he could think about was the Hero of  _fucking_  Kazakhstan biting off his glove.

( _Omigod_ , Yuri thought, feeling his cheeks flush just remembering that conversation. Victor and Katsudon had just done that stupid duet and Yuri just wanted to have  _fun_ , wanted to prove he could do Eros too, wanted to destroy the thought of him being a little fairy, a prima ballerina, but everyone was talking about Victor and Yuri cornered Otabek  _thirty seconds_  before going on the ice, begging him to be involved.  _'I don't give a fuck what you do. Just take my gloves off and shoot me at the end,'_  Yuri had cried, shaking with his usual pre-performance rage.  _'I just don't want them to remember their love-fest over me.'_  How that translated into  _'Hey Otabek, bite my glove off'_  Yuri still wasn't sure. If there wasn't video proof on YouTube that it  _had_  happened, Yuri would have been sure it was just a dream.)

"Yuri," Otabek said, and the blond looked up at him. Otabek pushed a pint of some beer toward him, before thanking the bartender with the same soft voice he used for the cabbie, leaving a tip, and pointing to a booth against the wall. Yuri picked up the drink with both hands, feeling just as young as he ever did, making his way toward the seats.

If they both faced sideways, they could see the band, but Yuri had most of his back to them when he sat down, figuring he should give Otabek the better vantage point, as it was the taller man who wanted to see the band in the first place. The song was ending, and a handful of patrons clapped, but certainly not all of them. Most kept their conversations up.

"Isn't that rude?" Yuri asked, setting the beer down and looking around him. The band started up again, and he turned back to his friend.

Otabek shrugged, "It's a bar."

"Well, why would they even do it if people won't pay attention?"

For the first time that night, Yuri caught the sides of Otabek's mouth quirk up. He saw the exhale from the fall of his chest, even though Otabek never moved to take off his leather jacket. Yuri was quick to shed his outer coat, stuffing it on the bench between him and the wall. When he looked back up, Otabek was looking at him, his glass half-raised to his lips.

"What?" Yuri asked.

Yuri felt himself growing warm, watching as Otabek's eyes tracked over his torso. Otabek started lowering his glass back down, so Yuri reached forward, grabbing his own and bringing it to his lips like a challenge. He almost choked on the first huge gulp – God, it was shit – but he took two more sips before he practically slammed the cup back down.

Otabek wasn't looking at his chest anymore, but he didn't look any less surprised.

"Nothing," Otabek shrugged and when Yuri put his forearms on the table, getting ready to raise himself in his friend's face and scream, the other teen just shook his head. "I mean, it's nothing  _bad._  I just like that jacket."

"What?" Yuri asked again, lowering himself back down to sitting.

"I haven't seen you in it since Barcelona," Otabek said, finally drinking from his own glass.

Yuri nodded, holding back the  _I know_  that was threatening to spill from his lips. Instead, he turned in his seat, looking toward the band. He hadn't warn it since Barcelona. On the periphery, he could see Otabek was still looking at him for a long moment, before his eyes finally went to the band.

Yuri couldn't help the small smile that rose to his face.

The band had four people in it: a percussionist, a bass player, and two guitarists. One of the guitarists was a woman, but the rest were guys. Sometimes they all sang, but sometimes it was just one or the other. Yuri didn't know much of any American classic rock, but he listened to whatever commentary Otabek was willing to provide. As the night went on, and Otabek's first glass grew empty and then his second, the quiet man that Yuri knew started to melt into some other person, someone Yuri knew few people really got to see.

Otabek seemed to know everything. He knew every song, the band who performed it originally, and at least something about them. At first, he had only added additional information at Yuri's prompting, but over the first hour, he opened up, letting the blond in enough to see one of his passions. Yuri himself found something he was passionate about, when the heat of the bar and the alcohol mixed and Otabek shrugged his leather jacket off. He wasn't wearing another thick sweater like he had been the night before. (Jesus, that had only been the night before?) Instead, he had a solid black v-neck on; if Yuri thought he had picked the tightest t-shirt he had owned, Otabek must have owned this when he was Yuri's age. Suddenly the only thing Yuri could think about was  _biceps_  and  _clavicle_  and he was quick to raise his drink to his mouth, chugging the rest of it while looking at the band.

Otabek stood and got them both another round.

As ten pushed closer to eleven, Yuri wasn't sure how much either of them had to drink, but while Otabek had slowed down, maintaining the level he was at, but Yuri had started more conservatively, so he was playing catch-up. He had nowhere to go but faster.

While trying to speed up, he watched the band. It was during a slower song, when some older ladies got up, laughing and swaying along, unsteadily.

Yuri had switched spots, sitting next to Otabek so he could watch too. Even though the older boy was leaning back, arm extended over the back rest, Yuri was leaning forward, head cradled in his arms.

"Hey, Beka?" Yuri asked, flushing at the name he let spill from his lips (even though he knew others called him that. His little sister called him that when she commented on any of his pictures, and so did some of the other guys knew knew from when he was in school) or maybe the alcohol. "How  _do_  you dance to this music?"

"Dance?"

" _Da,"_ Yuri said, turning to face him. Otabek was looking at the girls, as if he were noticing them for the first time. "Like, obviously not  _that_  but… I've been thinking about it and I can't really figure it out."

"You can't," Otabek's eyes dropped to Yuri's face, and the blond frowned. Otabek barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Not you, specifically, I mean… people don't dance to rock music."

"They are."

"They're trying," Otabek admitted with a grin. "Not succeeding."

"Then what about at a concert?" Yuri asked.

"People  _sway_  to it. Slow songs could be slow danced to. Otherwise, people end up looking like that," Otabek said, reaching forward, putting a heavy hand on Yuri's shoulder. The blond noted that Otabek was smiling one minute but Yuri watched as it faded. For a second, he couldn't figure out what was wrong, until the elder teen added, "No, Yura, please don't."

Yuri wanted to ask  _don't what?_  but he was already standing up.

He remembered the dance-off with Katsudon two years ago at the Grand Prix, and he remembered the rematch last year (he was still a two-time loser for that), and he remembered five years of intensive ballet, and he remembered the years before that too. He remembered other ballroom classes, remembered his Latin classes. But as Yuri walked up to the group of drunk woman, he still had no idea how to dance to this.

It took no convincing. He doubted the women knew him, or at least, they didn't recognize him in this moment, and all of them were at least a few years older than him, but most were older than Victor. They giggled when he asked one to dance, one who seemed less drunk and more agile, and when he reached out his hand, he was surprised to feel her grab it.

With a faster song, it wasn't a very real definition of dancing, but he was encouraged by the drunken cheers, the alcohol, and Otabek's voice from across the bar, laughing out,  _"Davai!"_  It was a lot of swaying, paired with the occasional attempt at trying a step sequence on dry ground, and once-and-a-while lifting up his arm so the lady could spin under it. When the song ended and they applauded the band, he snuck a glance back at Otabek, who had his head thrown back, his arm draped over his eyes, laughing like Yuri had never seen him before.

The song slowed, and Yuri raised a hand to wave goodbye, to go back to Otabek, but one of the other girls grabbed his hand and lifted her arm. He spun naturally, even if she was a little short, and grinned when she pulled him in, exaggerating the slow dance Yuri had seen in movies. He assumed this was how couples slow danced together, but he never had a reason to see it in real life. Victor wouldn't marry Yuuri without a gold, which was a stupid lie. He had gotten one at Trophée de France, Four Continents,  _and_  the Japanese Nationals, but Victor was either holding out for the Grand Prix or the season to be over. Either way, they should hurry up and send out invitations. Yuri had a busy schedule.

_Why would they invite you?_  He caught himself thinking.  _You hate them._

Another part of his brain added:  _of course they would invite me. I hate them, but they don't hate me._

_They_ all _hate you._

" _Prostite,"_ Yuri heard and the lady he had been swaying with seemed to flush. She backed away from him, and Otabek put his hand on Yuri's shoulder. His other hand he held out, palm up, open, and Yuri found himself smiling, reaching out to take it.  _"Nyet,"_  Otabek grinned, nodding to the lady.  _"Ee."_

The woman, who had to be ten years Otabek's senior, flushed more but reached out her hand. Otabek Altin, the fucking hero of Kazakhstan, stuck out his tongue at Yuri as he led her a little away, swaying with her like he was some ballroom dancer, making them both look like they danced without any effort but with total grace.

Another woman who had been dancing around them took Yuri's partially outstretched hand and pulled her to him. "Your boyfriend is a dick," she laughed.

"He is not," Yuri hissed, then flushed, lowering his voice. He could barely hear himself over the music, so he doubted Otabek could hear them either. "A dick nor my boyfriend."

"Bullshit," she said, but she was smiling. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, and the movement just made him look past her, toward Otabek. The man was still dancing with her – her head was pretty much right up against his chest, and Yuri found himself bristling – but the teenager just threw Yuri a wink. "You could have danced with him here, you know."

Yuri frowned, "I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah, sure," she said. For some reason, Yuri tightened his grip on her hip and pulled her closer.

Just before the song ended, Yuri felt a hand on his shoulder again, heard Otabek interrupt with the same soft  _pardon me_ , but this time, his gloveless hand trailed down the white jacket Yuri was wearing, his strong fingers gripping on his bicep. "I'm sorry," he added. "Can I steal him from you?"

Yuri looked at the woman. She reminded him of Mila, in a way, but a lot older. Or Yuuko, but still obviously ancient in comparison. He felt the same warmth looking at her as he did the other women, (obviously conditionally), and for a second, he could imagine Minako, drunk off her ass and pushing Victor against a wall, demanding to know his intentions. Instead, she just shot him a look, then turned to Otabek. "He's a free person. Does he want to go with you?"

Yuri felt himself burning, and Otabek's fingers loosened. The blond looked at the woman for a long second, but she winked at him, moving away as easily as she had come. Yuri turned to his friend, but Otabek was already pulling him back toward their booth. Instead of sitting down, he finished what was left of his drink and said, "You ready?"

"For what?" Yuri asked.

"To go back," Otabek asked. Yuri groaned, pulling his phone out of his coat pocket. It was just past midnight. The taller man chuckled, putting that ridiculous scarf back on. Yuri wanted to grab it and drag him into an alley. Instead, he chugged the rest of his drink, too, before putting his own coat on. Yuri watched as Otabek pulled on his leather jacket and gloves. "I have to skate in less than eight hours, you know."

"If you wanted to sleep, we should have left earlier," Yuri said, as close to an apology as he could muster.

"I didn't want to," Otabek said.

"You'll be tired."

"I'll survive."

This time, when he reached forward, he grabbed Yuri's hand. The blond was so stunned, he let himself be dragged nearly out of the bar before he looked back on the makeshift dance floor and saw the woman he was with earlier. She had her thumb up, and even though it felt like it was his and Otabek's thing, he repeated the gesture back with his free hand.

The ride back to Victor's apartment was much like the ride to the bar in the first place. Otabek called a cab, and they sat in relative silence. Yuri felt just as warm as before, but he wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, or the way Otabek's fingers rested gently over Yuri's in the space between their seats.

When they returned to the apartment, Otabek got out, but he kept the door open with his hand on the top. Yuri crawled out of the back seat, standing in front of the other teen. For a long time, they were silent. In Barcelona, Victor and Yuuri had invited everyone else and ruined everything. They hadn't really been alone since then, even though it had been practically a full year.

Yuri could taste blood, and he hadn't even realized he had been biting at his cheek until then.

"I'll see you at practice tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah," he agreed.

"So…" Otabek said. "Until then."

Yuri wasn't going to say he had dreamed about this moment, but he also wouldn't say that he was an honest person. Every second of this, he thought he had planned out. He wanted to cup Otabek's face, he wanted to feel the difference when the short sides blended into the longer hair on top. He wanted to pull him down, push him against a wall. Yuri wanted to  _take_.

Instead, Otabek nodded, slipped back into the cab and shut the door behind him. The cab was already gone before he turned around and let himself inside.

Honestly, yes. He was a bit disappointed. Maybe it was the alcohol that dimmed the rage he knew should be building. Half of his brain seemed to scream about how of  _course_  Otabek didn't like him like that, had never liked him like that, that he was a fool for thinking it could happen. The other half was swimming with the man's soft voice in his ear, whispering about music, and the weight of his hand as it rested over Yuri's.

He took the stairs two at a time, but made sure to be slower, quieter, when he approached the apartment. His head was still buzzing, definitely more of the good than the bad, when he unlocked the door and his night was shattered once again.

As soon as he walked into the living room, he hit the light. Makkachin didn't come running, but it was late. He shut the door, locking it behind him. He toed off his shoes and hung up his coat before he ever noticed the small figure near the couch. To be honest, he heard the boy before he saw him.

"Yuuri?"

The child sat up from the fetal position he had been in near the coffee table. A throw blanket from the back of the couch was around him. He almost looked truly sick, until Yuri moved closer and noticed the boy's face was white, but his eyes were red. He wasn't actively crying, but his breathing was erratic, and the soft whimpering sounds he was making proved that he had been crying for some time before. He knew the older Katsudon had better days than others, but he hadn't realized that it was something he had struggled with his entire life.

"What's wrong?" Yuri asked, slipping off his white jacket and tossing it over the couch. He sat down at his level, crossing his legs in front of the boy. The kid took the cue and crawled into Yuri's lap, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, burying his face in his chest.

"Everyone's gone," the kid muttered, but then he was crying again. Yuri brought his arms around the child, his hands on his back, trying to soothe him the same way his grandpa had when he would ask about his mom.

Whatever magic or curse had turned the annoying couple into kids was a dick. Only a dick would take away the little bit of confidence Katsudon had scraped and clawed to get over the past two years. At times, even to this day, he didn't always trust Victor, didn't believe he was here to stay. But he  _had_  believed in his family, even when they weren't there within sight. If his time with Victor had given Yuuri nothing else, it had given Yuuri the belief that he had the love and support of his family, something he always  _had_ , but didn't recognize.

And fuck whatever would take that away from him.

"They're still in Japan," Yuri found himself saying. "All of them still love you. Your parents, your sister, Minako and Yuuko and Nishigori.

Yuuri hiccuped, "Nishigori?"

"Do you remember him?"

Yuuri's fingers balled into Yuri's shirt. He nodded, tears on hold again, but threatening to spill at any second. "He's so mean to me."

"I'm mean to you, too," Yuri added. For a long time, neither of them said anything. The child put his head back down onto Yuri's shirt, and the blond kept rubbing his back. Finally, though, after what seemed like at least ten long minutes, Yuuri pulled himself back.

"Are you going to leave again?"

"Not tonight," Yuri tried to force a smile, tried to promise  _not ever again_ , but how long before something would piss him off, push him away? Instead, he asked, "I'm gonna get ready for bed. Do you want to wait here or want me to put you back in bed?"

"Wait."

Yuri nodded, grabbing the pajamas he had packed and rushed to the bathroom. He tried to get around as quickly as he could, brushing his teeth and changing, but it still felt like too long when he got back to the living room and the kid's bottom lip was quivering, like he was barely holding it together.

"Ready?" Yuri asked, and the smallest boy nodded. Yuri still picked him up, carrying him selfishly to the bedroom. He knew why people had kids now, even if they weren't going to be around forever to watch their kids grow up. Jesus, having a kid with his arms wrapped around his neck made him feel safe himself. Powerful, like he would protect this kid from anything, if he had to, if he  _could_.

When he laid Yuuri down next to Victor – who was snoring now, blissfully unaware his partner had been up crying for hours – the young boy reached out his hand, catching Yuri before he could go. The blond wasn't sure what else he wanted, until Yuri scooched closer to Victor.

"Are you sure?" Yuri asked, wondering how he would explain the presence of himself in their bed tomorrow, when they woke back up as adults.

Yuuri nodded, so Yuri crawled in.  _Fuck it_ , he thought. It was more comfortable than the couch, anyway. It wasn't long after the tiny fist closed around his pointer finger that it relaxed again, and Yuri quickly fell asleep, too.


	2. Day 2

When Yuri opened his eyes, he felt like all of yesterday had just been a bad dream. But then he realized he felt warm and heavy in a way he wasn't used to and looked down at himself. Somehow, in the night, he had shifted to the middle of the bed. A pint-sized Katsudon was curled up under his arm, his face pushing into Yuri's ribs, but Victor, on his left, had thrown his arm around Yuri's stomach, his head pillowed on his chest. Even Makkachin was laying over his legs.

How the fuck was he supposed to get out of this?

He worked on getting Victor away from him first. The kid, much like his adult self, slept like the dead. Once he got Victor's arm off his stomach, the kid pulled it in to himself, sighing as he bunched his arm to his chest, almost like he was dreaming of jumping.

Yuri tried to pull his legs in, and Makkachin looked up at him. He whined softly but got up, moving closer to Victor. Seeing this as his only opportunity, Yuri rolled a little on his side, facing Victor. It was enough to cause the kid's eyebrows to furrow, encouraging him to roll the other way. As soon as Victor cuddled up to Makkachin, Yuri put his hand down on the bed, pushing himself up to sitting so he could clear himself of the littlest kid, too. It wasn't hard once he was sitting up to crawl down the foot of the bed.

When he went to grab his phone from the charger, he had a moment of panic when he saw the other men's phones. He hadn't looked at them since before he left last night, and while Victor's notifications were crawling up to alarming amounts, there was nothing really pressing or important. He was about to shoot another text to Yakov from Victor's phone, telling him that the two were still sick, but he turned and looked at the kids.

It had been a day and they hadn't changed back. Maybe they wouldn't change back tomorrow either. If he told everyone the pair were sick  _again_ , there was no way that their rinkmates would leave it alone. He'd have a house full of them, wanting to cook, wanting to take care of the sick idiots. No, they had to be gone.

**Great news, Yakov! Yuuri and I feel so much better today. We still won't be in to skate though. We're taking an impromptu vacation to parts unknown! See you in a week or so.**

Yuri read it over a few times, wondering if that was how Victor would bail on his coach. Was Victor actually that enthusiastic or was that an annoying part of him that rubbed Yuri the wrong way, and thus, he hyper-focused on? He couldn't figure out how to phrase it any other way, so he just hit send.

He sat that back down (making sure to mute it first. Yakov would probably be calling them furiously in a second, and he didn't need the vibrations to wake up the kids) and picked up the other one. This time, he tried his best to respond to Katsudon's friends and family, lying to them by letting them know he was okay, determined not to mess up those relationships for the kid who, just the night before, felt so alone.

Then Yuri grabbed his own phone and headed to the living room.

 **my cousins just showed up from moscow** , Yuri texted Yakov.  **i havent seen them in years could i take some time off to visit them**

Yuri hadn't skipped practice two times in over a year, let alone two in a row. When he was a junior, he would blow it off more often than not, but he knew that Katsudon wouldn't be resting, so he knew he couldn't either. He figured he would welcome the break, but he was too full of energy. Even when he was traveling, even when he wasn't on the ice, he was always doing something: running, fitness training, ballet. He looked at Victor's apartment. The space between the living room and kitchen was only separated by his couch. The blond made quick work of pushing it against the side wall, freeing up the space.

He ignored Yakov's response ( **might as fucking well apparently nobody's showing up but your friend anyway** ), spread his legs, and started stretching

He saw he had a new message from Otabek, but he went to Instagram first. It was mostly the same shit with the people he followed. There was no picture of him dancing with that woman or chatting with Otabek. In fact, the Kazakh skater's page was as blank as Victor's and Yuuri's had been lately. He checked his tag to see if anyone had caught a picture, had recognized him, but there was nothing.

He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

Switching his stretch, he opened the message from Otabek. It was from last night, but after Yuri had gotten back and had fallen asleep. It was a picture, and he clicked it to make it larger, letting out a short bark of laughter.

 _There_  was the picture of him dancing with the ladies.

It was actually a really good one, once Yuri got over the initial comedy of it. He was mostly facing the camera, and while his body seemed to scream awkward, because seriously, how does a person dance to music like that, his eyes were mostly closed and there was a grin on his face. The woman's hand was in his hand, her body was pretty close to his, but Yuri was laughing, looking back at Otabek.

He was glad that Otabek hadn't posted it, he thought, smiling. He pressed on the picture, saving it to his own device. It was a good picture of him, but it was a nice, private memory.

Another message flashed up on his screen underneath the picture.  **Bailing again? Yakov is on a rampage.**

Yuri sent Otabek the same basic excuse about family, but didn't wait for the response. He stood, tossed his phone onto the couch, and raised his arms.

Lilia had choreographed his free program this year, too, and she had kept him with pretty intense ballet training. As a kid, he knew it was a necessity, and he knew he had been good at it, but when he was competing as a junior, he slacked. If he hadn't slacked so badly, he knew he would be wiping the floor with everyone, but that was okay. He could work hard now.

He skated for about two and a half to three hours a day, usually. Six days a week. At least one of those hours were private; it was his time to monopolize Yakov without anyone present. The other time was left up to him throughout the day. Usually, he skated with a handful of other rinkmates just before lunch, that way, when he left for the day, he didn't have to come back. On occasion, he had been known to sneak in around five or six, right before the rink was open to the public at seven. Usually nobody was around, so even though it was great for Yuri to clear his head, he never really dared to practice his jumps too hard.

That was okay. He remembered Yakov threatening him when he would throw a quad as a junior, and watching Victor now, he understood why they had been off-limits to him when he was younger. Jumps  _killed_  skaters. He wanted to dominate this sport for as long as possible. So he had to take care of his body, even as he pushed it now, seeing it start to change.

He was an inch or so taller than last year, and only a few pounds heavier, but even that threw him off sometimes.

Forcing the thought away (because nothing good  _ever_  came from that line of thought), Yuri started moving through the floor version of his free program. He had begged Lilia to make a full dance for him. The jumps weren't the same, obviously, when he danced verses when he skated, and the movement from getting to one section to the other wasn't the same either. But they felt the same. The spins in his socks or on his skates, even if the speed wasn't equal, he still felt powerful, beautiful.

When he finished his free program, he stood back up, stretching out his ankle, when he heard the soft sound from the doorway.

Little Katsudon was there, looking all rumpled from sleep, with the throw blanket he had been using last night in one hand, dragged across the floor. His eyes were wide, and his fingers left his mouth long enough to say, "Wow."

"Did you like it?" Yuri asked, switching legs.

Yuuri nodded. "I do ballet, too."

"Have you started skating yet?"

"A little," The kid frowned. "I'm not very good."

"You will be," Yuri answered automatically. "You're still young." The little Katsudon nodded, just believing what the blond said would be true. "Your instructor is Minako, right? Show me what she's taught you."

"Okay," The kid said, but he walked past him, to the couch. He draped the blanket over the arm of it, then walked back to Yuri, promptly plopping himself down. "First: stretch."

Yuri found himself chuckling, but sat down too, letting the kid lead him through some mostly correct stretches. When he was doing a side stretch, though, Yuri found himself wincing. "Don't push on your knee to keep your leg straight. Just don't lean as much."

"Oh, yeah," Yuuri said, sitting upright more until his leg was flat on the ground. He put his hands just below the knee, but faced his chest toward his toe. Something must have felt better in the stretch, because the kid sighed. "Minako says that too."

"You'll hurt your knee," Yuri explained. "You gotta take care of yourself."

After they finished stretching, they both stood. It took the kid a second to situate his feet. He waited until his placement was steady before he lifted his arms  _en avante._ Finally, he looked up at Yuri.

He could imagine Lilia –  _'Your feet aren't out enough, you never have enough rotation, you are sloppy'_ or  _'You call those ballerina arms? You're not strong enough to hold first position for an hour without your arms getting tired? Go back to Yakov; I can teach you nothing if you're this weak.'_  – but instead, Yuri smiled and said, "First is good."

Yuuri moved on to second, third, four, then fifth position. Yuri swore to only adjust something if the kid was putting too much strain on himself somewhere, but he was fine. The five positions must have been drilled in him, and when he moved from fifth back to standing, he jumped up and put his fist in the air.

"You should be my teacher, Yuri," he said. "Minako always says I'm doing something wrong. And you're so  _nice_."

"I'm not nice," Yuri frowned, poking the kid in his belly. The kid giggled, stepping back and bringing his arm down to cover his stomach. "We'll do a pirouette next." Yuri said, barely containing the look of horror on Katsudon's face. "Go on, back to fourth."

When Yuuri struggled to move to fourth without going through the first three, the blond moved his own body, showing him fourth. He then demonstrated bringing his front leg into relevé, his back leg into passé, and his hands into first position, but not spinning, yet.

"It's not that easy," Katsudon complained, trying to force himself up into a relevé, putting too much pressure on his ankle. Yuri was quick to dart a hand out to steady him. "And I don't have a barre."

"Here," Yuri said, moving to stand closer to the kid. "Use my arm. Just do some relevés."

It seemed like this went on forever, but by the time Victor finally dragged himself out of bed, the little Katsudon could do a pirouette. Actually, he could do a damn fine pirouette. He almost wanted to run to Lilia and show her what the boy learned in such a short time. The six-year-old frowned when he walked out of his room, rubbing his eyes, looking at the two spinning.

"Yurio, what's for breakfast? I'm dying."

"Do you want to dance with us, Victor?" The kid asked, but his stomach was growling.

"Maybe later," Yuri said, looking over at the older kid. He was making his way into the kitchen, pulling open he refrigerator. "We should break for breakfast."

It didn't take long for them to decide on eggs and toast, something nice and easy that Yuri could make, but Victor tried to fight him on waiting to move the couch and coffee table back. In the end, he only dropped the argument when Yuri pointed out that he would have to sit on the floor and Makkachin would get into his eggs.

Even though he didn't really burn any energy away, he felt better when he grabbed the laptop and settled the kids in front of it. His eggs turned out pretty damn good, too. There were no complaints to be had.

* * *

Most of their second day passed uneventfully. After breakfast, they went for a walk so that Makkachin could go to the bathroom, but Victor complained about needing a bath the whole time, so it wasn't long.

Yuri ran one bath for both of the boys, but insisted they wear underwear, despite Victor's protests. Katsudon just pretended they were swimming, but stopped squirming to let Victor run his soapy hands through his hair. Yuri stood guard, or rather sat guard on the closed toilet seat. He watched them, but Victor was more than competent at washing and drying both of them.

Victor dressed himself; Yuuri needed a bit of help when he put his shirt on backwards. But that much, Yuri could do.

He threatened them to keep them on the couch watching Netflix while he showered. He took the world's fastest shower, but it didn't even look like either boy had moved.

If Yuri thought he would have been able to dance his free program once and do pirouettes with the kid and be out of energy, though, he was sadly mistaken. By four in the afternoon he was crawling out of his skin. He clearly wasn't the only one.

"Please, Yurio," Victor was on his knees in front of the couch, his folded hands drawn up to his face. "Please take us to go skating."

But to be honest, it didn't take a lot of convincing.

Even as some of the anxiety of their outing to the park set in, Yuri was dying to get back on the ice. The boys got their winter clothes on quickly, and Victor asked about his skates only after they left. Yuri shot back that they were in his locker, only realizing after he had said it that the  _adult_  Victor's skates were in his locker.

Ah well. Victor Nikiforov, five-time world champion and pretty successful coach, would have to rent skates.

When the door to their rink was locked, Victor practically threw himself in a snow bank, but Yuri just shook his head, digging out his keys. When he was still a junior, he had been upset about everything – bitter that his success wasn't making him money, angry that it wasn't enough to make his mom want to be around him, missing his grandpa – that he needed to do some laps around the rink to calm himself down. He had done just what Victor had done; he threw himself in the snow and vowed to die of hypothermia.

It hadn't even been a few minutes before Victor had shown up. Then, he had been twenty-five. He slipped the key into the door and let Yuri in, watched as the kid skated lap after lap after lap around the rink. Yuri was pretty sure Victor didn't skate in the one selfless act he ever committed in his life, letting his rinkmate have space. But he was equally sure he stayed just in case… in case Yuri started recklessly throwing jumps and hurting himself, or if he tried to do something even more reckless and dangerous, the blond wasn't sure.

It was the single moment he went back to when he hated Victor the most, reminding him that Victor had saved him from something that night.

In the end, Victor had made him a copy of the key, winking and saying,  _"I get like that, too."_

So Yuri fed the key into the door, and this time it was Victor to jump in the air with a cry of victory, bursting in to the lobby like the door may lock again if he didn't get in fast enough. Even though at six, Victor hadn't started training with Yakov, the kid led the them back to the locker room as if on muscle memory.

Yuri went to his locker, opening the combination, thankful that someone had moved his skates back from where he left them on the side of the rink yesterday back to his locker. When he turned around, Victor was staring up at him. Rather, he was staring up at his locker.

" _Yuri Plisetsky,"_  Victor said, reading the Cyrillic aloud. "Where's mine?"

"Here," Yuuri called, pointing up to one of the lockers a few down. True enough, it was Katsudon's locker. He could read his own name, even in English.

"And look," Victor cried, pointing to the bubbly writing with a crude drawing of Makkachin that Katsudon had drawn on there. "Mine is next to yours, Yuuri."

Yuri couldn't stop his eyes from rolling as he took off his coat and shoved it in his locker, leaving him with just a black t-shirt and black pants. He slipped off his shoes, too, but didn't start putting on his skates yet.

When he looked back over at the boys, they had taken off their coats and shoes, too, but Victor frowned, pointing up at his locker. "I don't know how to open it, Yurio."

"You don't remember your combination?"

Victor just whined.

"That's okay," Yuri said. "We'll swipe you a pair of rentals."

That didn't seem to go over well with Victor. The entire way from the locker rooms to the front lobby he bemoaned rental shoes. To be honest, Yuri couldn't blame him, but there also wasn't anything they could do. Yuri had searched Victor's closet. He hadn't kept any of his old skates. Probably, the blond thought grimly, the man had sold them. Some of their old (especially autographed) stuff could fetch a pretty penny. And it wasn't like Victor would need a billion pairs of skates that didn't fit him anymore, anyway.

Yuri  _was_  careful, though, to make sure he got the right size skates for both boys, checking over the rentals to make sure they were sharp enough and, on Yuuri's, that the pick wouldn't be more of a hassle than help. It wasn't like the kid was going to be throwing jumps or even stopping on his toes like that. If the pair were too new, it might catch when he was skating and take him out.

The blond was determined that the skating, unlike the playground, would be enjoyable for all parties.

Victor only whined more when the blond insisted they stretched before hand. "You're not going to be six forever," Yuri reminded him, pushing on his back to deepen Victor's stretch. "You'll thank me later."

Finally, they walked their skates to the side of the rink, where Victor was quick to pull his on, still complaining about the weight of them. Katsudon needed help, so the blond knelt down, tying them as tight as he could without too much pain.

He was in the middle of lacing up his own skates when Victor suddenly screamed out, "You have a world record?"

Yuri looked up at the boy, then turned to look where he was pointing. The board had always been up there, ever since he had first started skating with Yakov at ten. It had always said the same thing, for the most part. In bold at the top, it said  _WORLD RECORD TO BEAT._  Until this past year, it had always had  _Short – Victor Nikiforov_  and  _Free – Victor Nikiforov_. Sure the scores next to them changed from year to year, but the name never had.

Now it read:

 **WORLD RECORD TO BEAT**  
Short – Yuri Plisetsky – 118.56  
Free – Yuuri Katsuki – 221.58

How the  _fuck_  was Yuri supposed to explain that one away?

Little Katsudon's eyes followed Victor's hand, too, but despite the fact that his name was on the wall, with a superhuman score for his free program, he didn't mention it, never questioned it. It wasn't in Cyrillic, and the kid had proved he could point out his own name. The seconds passed on, but Yuri couldn't think of anything to say. More surprisingly, Victor didn't say anything. Did he not know the kid he'd spent every minute with for the past day and a half's last name? Did it never register to him that the  _three-year-old_  standing on shaky legs was the same kid who owed the world record?

Or maybe it was magic. Maybe, for whatever reason, he couldn't read it because they weren't meant to know.

"Yeah," he said, still looking between them and the wall like they had formed some weird time-paradox and the earth was going to explode.

"Show me," Victor demanded, turning back to the blond. His fingers found purchase at Yuri's shirt, and he squeezed. "Please, I need to see it. Even Alexei Urmanov didn't have a score like that!"

For a second, Yuri thought  _who?_  but he was quick to think  _wasn't that guy Yulia Lipnitskaya's coach?_  He must have been a pretty big skater back when Victor was a kid. Suddenly, he could only think about Victor at  _48_  coaching an Olympic Gold medalist and he wasn't sure if it was hilarious or depressing.

"Warm up, first," Yuri said, and although Victor glared at him like he was holding out, the kid took off on to the ice, doing a quick lap before Yuri even finished up lacing his skates.

By the time Yuri stood, Victor was twisting around, skating backwards. His hands were raised like he was about to do a jump and once or twice he lifted his other leg, mimicking the entrance to a jump, but he put his leg back down and continued skating. Yuri approached the edge, but noticed the youngest boy was still standing back.

"You coming?"

Yuuri still had his gloves on and he patted his hands together like he was trying to physically push bravery into his body. His eyes drew away from the ice to look at the blond. Yuri tried to remember three, but he couldn't really remember not being able to skate. He was sure if he asked Victor or the adult Katsudon, they would say the same thing.

He couldn't ever remember fearing the ice like that.

Victor whipped past them, and the kid's eyes fell back to the ice.

"Hey," Yuri said, holding out a hand. "We can do a few together if you want."

Yuuri took his hand without any hesitation, even though the little smile on his face did nothing to make him look less afraid. Yuri stepped out on the ice, practically tugging the kid toward the edge. It still took him another half a minute to lift a foot and place it on the ice.

He slipped almost immediately, but Yuri reached out his other hand, grabbing the kids bicep, keeping him upright. The kid couldn't be thirty-five or forty pounds, but on the ice, the blond knew his own body. Even Katusdon's weight was enough to throw him off balance for a second. He put his pick in the ice to stabilize them both, huffing out a breath of air. He hadn't fallen just standing or skating in a  _decade_.

Slowly, when he saw Yuuri had his feet back under him, he let go of his bicep and stood himself back up. The fabric of the glove felt like it was digging into his skin, the kid had such a death grip on his fingers.

"If you think you're going to fall," Yuri said, "bend your knees. If you lower your center of gravity, you may be able to save it. If not, you don't have as far to fall."

Yuuri gave him a grim smile, but nodded. When he moved forward, Yuri felt himself let out a breath of air. This was definitely not the kid's first time on the ice. He was spastic at times, neural pathways not cemented like they would be twenty-two years in the future, but once they took an agonizingly slow lap round, a switch seemed to flip. He still skated like a child, but his confidence grew and Yuri could feel his fingers coming back alive when the kid's grip let up.

Victor had ignored them at first, but as he passed by them, he did a little hop, half rotating to be facing away. He skidded to a stop, spraying ice away from them.

"Look at you go," he shouted, clapping his hands. "You are very good for someone so young."

Yuuri beamed, opening his hand. For a second, the blond was hesitant to let him go, but he released his fingers, coasting to a stop while Yuuri scrambled toward Victor. Without the taller body to stabilize him, his arms shot out to his sides, wobbling. Once, he looked like he was going to topple to the side but he bent his knees (his hands shooting out in front of him to catch himself), but slowed to a stop, remaining upright. Victor cheered and held out his hands. It took the kid a second to be able to get himself moving forward again, but in a few short strides, he bypassed Victor's hands and wrapped his arms around the other kid's waist, laughing into his stomach.

Yuri caught himself smiling, so he quickly forced out a scowl.

(But he still skated to the side of the rink, grabbing his phone and taking a few pictures of the kids going a lap around the rink hand-in-hand. Even now, it looked so effortless for Victor, and it might just be his imagination, but Yuuri seemed more relaxed too).

Yuri did public skates often. Or, well, public skates with his rinkmates. Three of his practices a week were usually with most of his rinkmates. Yakov would hold dominion, picking out something on one of them, but usually the younger kids. Their rink was usually busy, and he was used to dodging the novice kids. As he warmed up, he made sure to keep an eye on them, afraid that Katsudon would fall and hit his head on the ice.

If he started bleeding, Victor would end up skating away and be no help, if that one time at the Cup of China was any indication about how the guy felt about blood.

As soon as he started warming up, though, both of the kids stopped, pressing their backs against the barrier, watching him.

"I won't hit you," Yuri called as he passed them. "You can keep skating."

He could see both boys shake their heads. When he was near the middle of the rink he opened his arms, drew up one foot, and did a nice triple Salchow as a warm up. He landed it clean, but felt the pull of his muscles. He hadn't warmed up enough.

Still, at the applause coming from the side of the rink, he pushed forward, moving toward the kids, stopping a few yards away and doing a spin.

It continued that way, Yuri would do something he had been able to do for years, but was still years beyond what Vitor would be able to do, enjoying the way the kids responded. His fan club was two, but they were loud. Once, Katsudon clapped so hard he lost his balance, skating forward a little bit, flailing to try and stop himself. When Victor grabbed on to his arm and pulled him back, Yuri slid to a halt near them. Finally, after a long (but very short) ten minutes of warming up, he figured wasn't going to get any warmer, and he ushered the kids off the rink.

It took another few minutes for Victor and Yuri to guide the younger one from the ice, but when he did, the kid sat down in the opening. Even standing with skates on, he wasn't tall enough to see along the rail. Victor just barely was, but he draped his arms over the side, pushing forward on his toes, trying to give himself an extra few inches.

Yuri grabbed his phone again, moving down a few feet to plug it into the speaker Victor kept set up there. He brought up the music, one that had enough of a time delay at the beginning so he could make it out onto the ice. For a long moment, his finger hovered over the piece. He could hear the kids whispering together, and figured he had a few more seconds before Victor started to complain

He read the words over and over in his head,  _Agape_ , but try as he might, he couldn't just conjure up the unconditional love he felt for his grandpa.

For some reason, all he could think about were the kids.

Victor, annoying as shit as he was with his constant whining, had pointed out his high score with pride. He knew the older Victor was proud of Yuri's high score, but this had nothing to do with a second-hand compliment back to Victor as a choreographer. This was a simple pride. It was Victor sticking out his tongue at a bully on a playground, screaming,  _'oh yeah? My friend has the highest short program score in the world!'_  It was Victor's pure enjoyment when Yuri relented and took them skating in the first place. It was the way they woke up this morning, Victor feeling safe enough to curl on top of him and sleep.

Katsudon, too. It wasn't the competition, the backhanded comments both of them threw around to each other to edge the other on, make each other better, although even Yuri knew that  _that_  aspect of their relationship was from mutual respect. He thought of Yuuri last night, crying and terrified, thinking he had nobody left, that even Yuri had abandoned him. He thought of his bravery when he took his hand and stepped onto the ice. It was the simple level of trust that Yuuri had showed numerous times, when he let Yuri hold him after the playground, the look of awe on his face after he watched Yuri dance.

It wasn't the love he had for his grandpa, but it was warm and light, nonetheless.

Yuri hit the button to start the music. He turned and skated to the center of the ice, and he could hear them, the childish mock-whispering that kids really thought was quiet.  _"3… 2… 1…"_  Just as he hit the center of the ice, he heard both of them, in unison shout out,  _"Davai!"_

Yuri took his starting position. Usually, he would put on a smile, some fake thing for the cameras, but the gentle ghosting of a smile on his lips was real. Maybe this time, it would be okay if he didn't skate for his grandpa. He would skate for the kids, just this once.

The music started, and so did Yuri.

He completed the jumps, but couldn't raise his arms like he had at the GPF. As he was skating, something  _felt_  different. The program always made him feel vulnerable, but there was something different in it this time. He felt lighter during the step sequence, and in the final spins, he changed the reach for his skate, pulling up into a Beillmann and holding it a bit longer. It threw off his ending, so he reached up, finishing just after the music, but it didn't seem to matter. After a second of silence, both of the kids were clapping and cheering.

Looking over, he even saw Victor wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

He grinned, moving to skate back to them when he heard a slow clap, loud, but echoing enough Yuri knew it was from farther away. His first thought was that it was sarcastic, that someone saw him mess up the end, and he thought of fucking  _JJ_  for a split second, before his eyes were frantically scanning the rink. Finally, he spotted the man at the entrance.

Yuri froze, staring at him. He was too far away; he couldn't tell whether Otabek was  _smiling_  or not.

He saw Otabek bring his hands to his mouth, and heard,  _"Krasivaya, Yuri"_  echo across the rink.

For a second, he found himself smiling again, until he heard Katsudon ask, "What did he say?"

"He called Yuri  _beautiful_ ," Victor cried, trying to push up on his toes, turning around, waving an arm frantically, like he was trying to call over the man who had complimented his babysitter.

" _Victor,"_  Yuri hissed, pushing forward so fast he almost stumbled on the ice. He got to the edge in record time, grabbing at the kid's bicep. "We have to leave  _now_. Get up"

Yuuri obeyed, but Victor wouldn't be moved and the littlest kid was clunky in his skates, so they barely moved a foot before Otabek had made his way to them. His breathing was heavy, like he had run, but he stopped a few feet from them. Yuri did his best to hide the kids behind him, but Victor was popping his head out from behind Yuri's back, still waving like an idiot.

Otabek looked at Yuri, something strange crossing his face, almost like  _hurt_ , before he looked down at the kids. Yuri followed his gaze. While both boys were staying  _behind_  their guardian, both were peeking out the sides. Yuuri had a grip on his pants and his other fingers in his mouth, looking up at Otabek like the man was going to murder him. Victor, trying to be brave, took a step around to the side, undeterred when Yuri tried to push him back.

"Hello," he grinned. "Are you two friends?"

Otabek gave Yuri another glance before nodding. "Yes."

"So are we," Victor cried, jumping out from behind the blond. Yuri made a desperate grab for him, but with the little Katsudon clinging to his pants, it just threw them both off balance, and Victor practically  _skipped_  toward Otabek. He was too short to reach all the way up, but he pointed at the tiny flag on Otabek's chest and asked, "Not Russian though?"

"Kazakh," Otabek answered, and when Victor still looked confused, Otabek helplessly offered, "From Kazakhstan."

"Oooh," Victor said, but Yuri doubted that meant anything to the kid until he poked Otabek in the stomach. "That's why you speak Russian,  _da_? Because Kazakhstan used to be in the Soviet Union."

"Hey," Yuri called, trying to stop this conversation, but Otabek just looked as confused as ever.

"Not since before I was born."

Now Victor looked confused.

"Okay, history lessons don't need to happen right now," Yuri called, finally dragging Yuuri forward enough to grab Victor's arm. He tried yanking him back, but the traitor grabbed Otabek's hand, trying to keep himself there. "We're leaving."

"Aw," Victor whined. "Yurio, I wanted to show you my programs."

"Yurio?" Otabek asked, and the two of them stopped struggling. With the hand Victor wasn't grasping, Otabek angled Victor's face toward him. The kids hair was longer, maybe just a tad bit shorter than Yuri's, but Otabek wasn't an idiot. "Is this… Victor?"

"Oh," Victor cried. "You know me too! You must skate here with us."

Oabek's eyes shot up to Yuri.  _"Victor Nikiforov?"_

Yuri looked down, pushing the kid hiding behind him forward. Katsudon turned and looked up at Otabek for maybe two seconds, before he turned again, hiding his face in Yuri's leg. "And Yuuri Katsuki," Yuri added, grimly.

"Yura," Otabek's voice was so gentle, Yuri felt like he was going to burst. "How did this happen?"

"Say mister," Victor said, undeterred by the heavy silence. "If you skate with us, go get your shoes. We can all skate together."

The two teenagers stood for a long moment. Yuri was looking down, but he could feel that Otabek was still looking at him. He didn't know what to say, especially not in front of the kids, but in the end, it didn't matter. Otabek turned back to Victor.

"If I go get my skates, will you wait so I can see your program?"

Victor cheered, but let go of Otabek's hand. With one last look at Yuri, the elder teen went off to the locker room to grab his skates. Despite complaining how heavy the rentals had been, Victor was jumping in them now, clapping his hands together. When Otabek left, Yuuri finally stepped back from the blond. Still, Yuri leaned over, hauling the kid up and settling him on his hip, careful of his skates.

"What are you so excited about?" He asked Victor.

"Your program was so pretty, Yurio," Victor said, exploding off his skates again. This time, he threw himself at Yuri, who somehow managed to stay upright with the weight of all three of them pulling him toward the ground. "When I grow up, I want to skate just like you."

Yuri found himself smiling.

"Yeah," Katsudon agreed, putting his head on Yuri's shoulder. "Good ballerina but  _amazing_  skater."

The blond settled the kid on the barrier wall at the edge of the rink, facing toward the ice. He was too heavy, especially with the skates, but Yuuri didn't seem to mind. Victor let go too, practically running back on the ice, and Yuri was glad to have a moment without their attention.

He was warm, and hiding behind Katusdon (so he could keep an arm on the kid – he didn't want him to fall), he brought his free hand to his face. It felt like it was on fire.

When Otabek came back, he already had his skates on, but he didn't go on the ice. He leaned forward, forearms on the railing besides Yuri, his arm just brushing the blond's.

"What's your music, Victor?" He called, reaching over to grab Yuri's phone. The blond was terrified for a second, but he watched as Otabek pulled up YouTube and breathed a sigh of relief.

Victor took a second to really get his opening right. He was more graceful than Yuuri had been moving through the five positions, but it still wasn't natural to him, not yet. "Clair de lune," he called back. "Do you have it on that thing?"

" _That_  thing," Otabek hissed, but more incredulous than unkind. Yuri watched him search and look through them. "His program is the save game music from  _The Evil Within._ I must be dreaming and my subconscious is throwing a bunch of random things together. Is this some weird fever dream?"

"I don't think so," Yuri added. "Otherwise, you've been sleeping for a while."

Otabek made another exacerbated sound, then said, "The shortest one is like five minutes long."

"He probably has an edit?" Yuri suggested. He noticed that Katsudon had his hands back in his mouth, even if he was looking at Otabek. The taller man shrugged, hit the icon to start it playing, and sat the phone back down.

"Davai," Yuri yelled, and after a second, Yuuri and Otabek yelled the same.

Just like Yuri couldn't remember three, he couldn't remember six. To be honest, be could barely remember ten. He remembered the novice class Otabek told them they shared, and even though he didn't have any real memory of Otabek in it, his mind was already starting to… he wasn't sure. Was he remembering their first meeting more clearly now that he had been reminded or was he making up new memories, imagining how a thirteen year old Otabek would have looked miserable in a class of kids?

But he saw loads of novice kids who were just starting under Yakov, and he remembered Yakov telling a kid that if couldn't land all six jumps in doubles at ten, then he was too old to start now. Victor, at six, doubled everything except his axel. Even the single axel earned a soft sound of encouragement from Otabek.

It was, after all, the hardest one.

The jumps,  _five doubles and a single_  for a six year old, was what impressed Otabek. After the applause, Victor skated back to them, and the man sang his praise. Well, it was a glowing review from Otabek, who was a man of few words. But Victor looked please nonetheless.

"I've never seen you do a Biellmann before," Yuri said. It hadn't been in a spin, but in a glide across the ice. It looked so natural, he couldn't believe Victor didn't keep them in his repertoire.

_Oh._

It was because he couldn't.

When Yuri started training with Yakov, Victor had already been in his twenties. He was already old for a skater then. He was trying to make a come back at twenty-eight, in a few short weeks he would be  _twenty-nine_.

Would Yuri still be skating at twenty-nine? He always figured he would retire before twenty, definitely twenty-five. It was only a matter of time before he hurt himself, after all.

Otabek's palm rested on Yuri's forearm and squeezed.

"It's not as pretty as yours," Victor said, his cheeks flushed. "But maybe someday."

"He dances, too," Yuuri suddenly added. He was still facing Victor, but his eyes were on Otabek. "He's good at it. Did you know?"

Otabek leaned forward, catching Katsudon's eye and the littlest kid turned toward him, not backing away this time. "I did know."

"Do you dance like him?"

Yuri wanted to push the kid onto the ice, but he just dug his fingers into his sides, where he had been holding him upright. Yuuri didn't even wince; he just continued looking at Otabek. Victor was ping-ponging back and forth between them with a grin on his face.

"No," Otabek admitted. "I'm not as good as he is."

" _Beka,"_  Yuri whined, trying to hide his face behind the kid.

"Beka?" Victor said, crossing his arms. "That's your name?"

"Otabek," he said, finally reaching out a hand, as if to shake it. "It's nice to meet you."

"Ooooh," Victor said, a look that would rival the spawn of Satan on his face as he reached forward, taking Otabek's hand in both of his. " _You're_  Otabek."

Otabek looked at Yuri, but the blond just picked up Katsudon, walking with him toward the ice. "We've got about half an hour left before we have to leave. The other kids are going to be showing up and clearly the two of you are too well known. So skate. Go."

Victor still had the look on his face, and Yuri could practically hear him thinking  _this isn't over_ , but he held out a hand. Yuuri took it, and they glided off together. When the blond dared to look back up, Otabek's face was unreadable. Finally, Yuri just stepped out onto the ice, shooting a, "You coming or not?" that made Otabek smile before the taller man was pushing out just behind him.

They enjoyed it, Yuri was pretty sure, all four of them. It was quiet, peaceful. When Victor got bored of Yuuri, Otabek was willing to supply an hand. The kid looked terrified, but Otabek held both his hands, letting the kid skate in front of him. It was the way Yuri remembered skating when he was first starting out, how parents helped their kids become more comfortable, and it wasn't long after that when Katsudon finally braved it on his own.

Yuri raced Victor and won, nine out of ten times, but the once Victor won was a glorious moment for the kid, and despite his nine defeats, he just kept screaming about how he was the fastest skater in the world.

Otabek showed them his short program and Victor and Yuuri gushed over him, too. The adjectives weren't the same. Otabek wasn't necessarily a  _pretty_  skater like he was, but he was powerful, determined. Even the kids could see that. Finally, When Yuri was returning Victor and Yuuri's rentals, he came back to find Otabek lazing around the rink, Yuuri settled on his hip.

For a second, his heart dropped. He wanted to scream it was against the rules, that it was dangerous for even a professional to carry a kid, but he walked up to Victor, shaking. He steadied himself on the edge, watching,  _fuming_.

"It's okay," Victor murmured, head in his hands, watching them. "He won't fall."

"It's reckless."

"Yuuri begged him," Victor said. "Twice around was all Otabek agreed to."

That must have been their first time around because when they passed by, they kept going. Otabek was going slowly, his grip was tight, but Yuri was still nervous. If anything happened to the little Katsudon on his watch…

When they got out of earshot, Victor spoke again. "He's handsome."

"Shut up."

"And kind. So kind."

"I said shut up," Yuri hissed, but Victor just swayed, knocking his hip against Yuri's leg.

"Something happened to me, didn't it? Me and Yuuri?" Victor asked, looking up. Yuri didn't speak – it felt like he was drowning – but he did nod. "He would help you, you know. With whatever happened, he wouldn't abandon you."

"I know," Yuri whispered.

"All you have to do is ask."

With the second lap finished, Otabek stepped out of the rink and sat the kid down, quickly sitting down himself to unlace his shoes, eying Victor to make sure the bigger kid hadn't gotten any stupid ideas. Victor just smiled, patted Yuri's arm, and dragged Katsudon off to go get their coats.

Yuri watched them go. When Otabek stood back up, he seemed shorter. Which, obviously. Skating was weird; it was similar to hanging out with a bunch of people who regularly wore different sized heels. Yuri was back in his sneakers, but Otabek was in his socks. The shoes barely gave him half an inch, but it felt, suddenly, like a mile.

"You're good with them," Yuri said. "Even baby Katsudon warmed up to you."

Otabek shook his head. "I have a little sister. I get kids. But they adore you."

"Shut up."

"No," Otabek said. "They always have. I know you hate it, but they love you like family. Victor sometimes calls you  _son,_  Yuri. You can't deny they care for you."

Yuri toed his shoe against the floor. "I know."

"So why is it a surprise that they care for you like this? Yuuri always looks at you like that. Sometimes it's hidden under his own fear and insecurity, but you make him better, so he wants you to do well, too," Otabek reached forward, touching Yuri's bicep and squeezing gently. "Victor knows you're the future of Russian skating. He's putting his legacy in you, but that's also why he didn't coach you. You've done better when you aren't in his shadow."

"Shut up," Yuri said again, it was quiet but raw. He felt like screaming.

For a long moment, Otabek did shut up. But finally, he squeezed his arm one last time before letting his hand fall. "I can watch them for you, tomorrow," Otabek said. "So you don't have to miss practice again."

Yuri nodded. His  _thank you_  even quieter.

"Whatever this is," Otabek continued. "It'll work out."

"Yurio," Victor said in sing-song. Yuri looked up and Victor had his coat. "We're hungry."

For a second, Yuri thought about inviting Otabek. Victor was right, it would be so much easier with his help, but Otabek lifted his skates and smiled. "Text me," he said, then walked off, patting Victor on his head as he passed. Yuri went and grabbed his coat, ignoring Victor's insistent questioning about what they talked about. As they left, Yuuri's hand found the blond's. This time when the gloved fingers squeezed him, Yuri felt comforted.

* * *

At Victor's insistence, they stopped at the grocery store on the way home. The kids were great while he cooked. Victor took out Makkachin, but brought him back after about five minutes. When he came back inside, Victor flipped the lock. Katsudon was practicing his ballet. Victor danced around with him for a while, but not very well for the number of years he must have into the art. Yuuri seemed to enjoy listening to Yuri scold the six-year-old for his lack of precise form. Once he even hit Victor (softly) in the back with his borscht spoon, which caused the kid to fake-cry melodramatically all over the apartment.

"It'll stain," Victor whined, ripping off his shirt. The solid blue v-neck shirt that Yuri had bought him in a three-pack for like ten dollars the day before. "Wash it now, Yurio! Beet stains are the  _worst_."

In the end, Victor and Yuuri went to the bathroom to soak his shirt in the tub. When Yuri told him not to dirty his last clean shirt, Victor started digging in Yuri's backpack. The tiger shirt was way too big on him, but Yuri tied a knot in it at his side and it looked a little less like a dress.

And Victor  _loved_  it.

He also loved the borscht. (Katsudon ate it, but he definitely didn't sing its praise like Victor did.)

The kids brushed their teeth without any argument. When they did settle into their bed, Yuri tucked them in.

"We should get some books tomorrow," Victor sighed, closing his eyes. "My mamochka used to read to me before bed."

"Mine too," Yuuri added, inching closer to Victor. "Mari sometimes, too."

"Mari?"

"My sister."

Victor was quiet for a long moment. He reached out between them, holding his hand out into the space between them. Katsudon took it. "I don't have siblings. Or a father."

They were quiet again, and Yuri reached out a hand, touching his briefly against theirs. "I have a grandpa. That's it."

He heard Victor sniffle. It might have escaped him before, but it certainly didn't now. Yuri had never heard Victor talk about his family before. Not one in the past five years of skating together, practically every day. He packed up and moved to Japan and the only one he told was Yakov.

"But," Yuri found himself saying quietly. "We have each other."

At that, Victor did let out a sob. He turned to the side, looking up at Yuri. Tears were falling from his eyes and the blond pulled his hand away, sitting on the bed, reaching out for the boy's shoulder. He barely had to make contact before Victor was sitting up, wrapping his arms around Yuri's stomach, burying his face into his chest.

After that, Yuri couldn't leave. He did leave Victor in the middle of the bed, though, so he could plug in his phone and scroll through everything before he fell asleep. The kids' breathing evened out pretty quickly, and when Yuri didn't see anything from Otabek again, he looked back through his own pictures.

He had a great one of Otabek and Yuuri. He quickly sent it to his friend with no caption, no explanation.

A minute or so later, he got a picture back. He didn't even remember it from the day. He and Victor were side-by-side, arms extended, leg back like they were about to do a jump. He knew himself and the adult Victor well enough to know that the placement of Victor's hands were  _his_. Lilia had complimented how delicately he held his hands during his jumps, and even though Victor screamed  _beautiful_  when he skated, even now when he had to fight and claw because he was pushing himself beyond his body's limits, Victor didn't have a ballerina's touch.

But there, in that moment, Victor could have been his younger brother. Their hair was almost the same length, if a different shade. Victor was in the foreground with Yuri just behind him, but they looked like carbon copies.

**thank you**

Yuri turned around. He was going to show the picture the picture to Victor, but he was sleeping soundly. And Yuri didn't want to wake him up.

Yuri watched the two of them for a second, until he felt his phone buzz in his hand.

**Good night, Yura. See you tomorrow.**

The blond smiled. He put the phone down on the end table next to the bed and drew his arms in to his chest. It took him a while to fall asleep, but the smile remained.


	3. Day 3

Yuri woke up with something pressing on his bladder. Or, well, his whole stomach.

Uncomfortable, he opened his eyes.

Makkachin was pressed up against Yuri's right. Victor was pressed up against his left, but he was still on his back. Mostly because he couldn't move. Because Katsudon was lying across all three of them, his legs draped over Victor, his torso over Yuri, and his head on Makkachin. There was no way he was going to escape this without waking at least two of the three of the creatures in his bed.

His phone was buzzing on the end table.

He stretched, reaching for the phone. The kid sighed, rolling down his legs a bit. He rolled off Makkachin entirely and the dog whined. He couldn't believe it when the kid seemed to fall back asleep, but he snatched his phone, unplugged it, and with bleary eyes, tried to decode the message.

But it wasn't a message at all. It was an incoming call.

Yuri hit the green phone button and whispered, "Hello?"

"Yuri?" It was Otabek. He wasn't whispering and in the silence of the room, it seemed like he was screaming. "I'm at the door but it's locked. Let me in?"

"Uh…" Yuri tried pushing Katsudon away, but the kid whined. He tried to soothe him, but it didn't work. In the end, as much of an asshole as it made him feel, Yuri yanked his legs back, letting the kid fall to the bed. Yuuri's frustrated noises grew louder, but before he could start crying, Yuri grabbed him under his arms, angling the phone to rest between his shoulder and his ear, dragging him up the bed.

At that, Katsudon opened his eyes, tears in them, but Yuri just rubbed his hand over the kid's hair, shushing him.

"I have to go to practice," Yuri whispered. "Otabek is here to watch you. You can sleep more if you want, but if you get bored, he'll be out there, okay?"

Yuuri nodded, shoving his fingers in his mouth, but he turned back to Makkachin and closed his eyes.

Yuri left the room, mostly closing the door behind him. "Sorry, I'm here," he said, turning the lock and opening the door. Otabek had his hand (and phone) up to his ear, but drew it away when the door opened. He ended the call, pocketing his phone.

The blond stood to the side and let the other teen in. He shut the door, finally checking the time.

"Aw, shit."

"Go ahead."

Yuri ran to throw on new clothes. He was just going to practice so he threw on sweats, a t-shirt and a jacket. He put on his coat, then sat down, tugging on his sneakers. He was telling Otabek  _everything_. Where the food was, that when Makkachin woke up, he'd have to take him out but Victor could do it, but the lazy kid probably wouldn't wake up until later. He pointed toward the drawers with food in them and told him about laptop that was charging in the bedroom. He was trying to explain the intricacies of the kid show the two of them liked when Otabek reached a hand down to the blond.

Yuri stopped talking and grabbed his hand.

Otabek hauled him up like he weighed nothing. The taller teen put his hands on Yuri's shoulders, forcing the blond to meet his gaze. It was awkward, the way it always was for Yuri when Otabek looked at him, but the dark-haired teen just smiled.

"It's a few hours, Yura," he reminded him. "I have a younger sister. I'm not clueless."

"Yeah," Yuri said, breathing out, finally calming down. He was still exhausted, and before he could stop himself, he leaned forward, putting his forehead against Otabek's shoulder. To his even greater surprise, the Kazakh chuckled, wrapping his strong arms over Yuri's back, holding him against his broad chest like he actually belonged there.

"We'll be fine," Otabek said, and Yuri could feel his deep voice vibrating against his forehead. "Don't even think about us, okay?"

"I…"  _always think about you_ , Yuri thought, but just pulled back and nodded.

Otabek nodded, too. "I switched places with Georgi today, so when you get back, I have to go in. But… you may want to hurry."

Yuri looked at the clock. "Fuck," he whispered. "Yeah."

Still he paused. He wanted nothing more than to surge forward, throw his arms around Otabek's shoulders, and press their lips together, a thank you he couldn't ever truly manage to say.

Instead, he forced a smile and ran out the door.

* * *

Maybe this was what Victor felt during practices. If that were the case, Yuri didn't know how he could return to skating, how he could persevere even as he struggled. His heart wasn't in it today. It was back with Otabek and and the kids. For the first time in a long time, in over a year, he didn't want to be on the ice, didn't care about getting better. He just wanted to go home.

Yuri could imagine Victor thinking the same thing. Maybe not when he was coaching, but definitely when he was skating. What was the point if Yuuri wasn't there?

Bitterly, Yuri glanced at the  _World Records to Beat_  board and thought the same thing.

It felt like hours – he knew it wasn't anywhere near  _hours_  but it was longer than his usual practice – when Yakov finally called it a day by throwing up his arms and storming off. Lilia waited at the edge of the rink for him. He loved Lilia like he imagined he was supposed to love his mom, but today, he didn't need the lecture, he didn't need her biting criticism which was  _so helpful_  any other time. He needed to get back to his family.

Because he couldn't do this. He would never do this. And he was sick of trying.

"Yuri," she said, folding her arms across her chest when he sat down  _on the floor_ and started yanking at the laces, growling when they didn't unlace as fast as he needed them to. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing," he mumbled. "I just want to get home."

"I told Yakov not to let that boy skate here," Lilia said. "I knew he would be a distraction for you."

" _What?"_  Yuri demanded.

"That Altin boy," Lilia said, and it felt like she was cutting into his chest with a dull knife. It was painful, and even though it wasn't a clean slice, it cut deep. "Yurochka, I know you."

"No, you don't," he said, finally ripping a skate off his foot. He wanted to  _throw_  it at her. "And don't call me that."

She was silent, watching his shaking hand as he tried, desperately to unknot the other skate. After almost thirty seconds, he lifted his hands from his skates. Shaking wasn't the right word. He was trembling. It was like he was starving, like his blood sugar was plummeting, but he could feel the familiar rage working itself inside him. It was fury, he told himself. He could work with that. Because as the tears started stinging his eyes, he knew he couldn't deal with the truth.

Desperately, he looked up at her.

Lilia scoffed, but she looked around, making sure nobody was around before she knelt down, making quick work of the laces that were confining him. The whole time, he knew he had to give her something. This couldn't be about Otabek because if there was one person here who could make hell for him, it would be Lilia.

The only thing he could think of was the truth.

"I'm half an inch taller," he said. The woman pointedly looked at his skates, and Yuri watched his hands, still shaking in front of him. "Two pounds heavier. Yakov measured me this morning."

"It's nothing."

"It's been two months," Yuri said.

"It's  _nothing_ ," Lilia snapped. "You're growing, so what. Everybody grows up, Yuroschka."

This time, he didn't snap about name. He didn't really hate it, after all. He only hated when someone used it against him. This wasn't against, it was with. She was trying her best to comfort him. She unlaced his skate enough for him to pull it off, but when he drew his knees to his chest, his thoughts weren't on home anymore.

This time last year, he was five-four. He was already five-five and a half. Otabek had grown a bit in the last year too, but not like Yuri. Otabek was only like an inch shorter than Yuuri had been before he became a three-year old, but the blond was  _gaining_ on him, he was gaining on both of them. And he had years of growing left in him.

How long until he closed the inch-or-so gap to stand next to Otabek? Two inches to Katsudon. Victor?

"Victor's tall," Lilia said, wrapping her hand around his ankle. "I know it doesn't make you feel better, but if that shithead can be almost six-foot and look beautiful, you will be angelic."

"What if I'm over six?" Yuri asked.

"You're not listening to me," She said, squeezing. He had bruises there, and she knew that, and it  _hurt_. "You will always be beautiful, Yurochka. If you can't do Beillmanns, if your chest becomes broad, if your arms become as big as my head, we will make it work. You will  _always_  be beautiful. Even when you retire."

Yuri bit out a laugh, bitter. "Even if I get a get a giant belly and go bald?"

This time, Lilia laughed, but she quit squeezing his aching ankle. "Always, Yurochka. But let's not think that far into the future."

"What if I go bald  _next year_?" Yuri whined, but he was smiling now, and Lilia smiled back at him.

"Don't come to practice tomorrow thinking about this," she said. "I have married skaters, divorced coaches, dated dancers, and watched the students. All of them, do you hear me Yurochka?  _All of them_  wish they could get back the time they spent worrying about the future."

Yuri nodded, but Lilia was already up and gone.

* * *

Yuri was still shaking when he fed the key into the door of Victor's apartment. He was sweaty and smelly, tired and hungry, and all he wanted was a bath and a nap. When he pushed the door open, he expected two crazy kids, running and screaming and making a mess of the place while Otabek stood helpless to stop them.

What he returned to was both worse and better.

It was better because both kid were curled up on either side of Otabek on the couch, completely engrossed in whatever he was reading him. Thus, there was no mess, no screaming, nobody to calm down or yell at.

It was worse because both kids were freaking curled up on either side of freaking Otabek Altin, completely disregarding the fact that he had come home at all. Thus, there was no need for him to be here, no kids to help, and nobody who probably even wanted him around.

When he shut the door, Otabek paused in his reading and looked up at him. For a second, his expression was warm, but whatever he saw in Yuri, he must recognize, and his face became neutral. He was in his late teens, for god's sake. Everything Yuri was worried about, Otabek had already gone through.

Still, the thought of Otabek hiding his happiness because he didn't want to hurt Yuri even more… that wouldn't do either.

"Yura," he said, softly, reaching out a hand. Yuri tugged off his coat and took off his shoes, padding on sore feet over it his friend. He didn't plop down, he didn't lay across all of them (which he desperately wanted to do) and take a nap, but he walked into Otabek's hand, leaning forward so the man could pat his head. He needed that much. He was surprised when Otabek, instead, reached for his cheek, cupping it gently. "Go take a bath. We'll finish this chapter and when you're done, we'll have breakfast ready."

Victor, who must understand to some extent, nodded. "We're going to have French toast."

"Da," Yuri said, but he didn't move away from Otabek's touch.

Then, everything seemed hazy, like his memory wasn't right. The hand slipped from his cheek to the back of his neck. Otabek pulled him closer, sitting up himself to meet the blond half way. Yuri felt the press of Otabek's lips onto his forehead, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to jump on Otabek and hug him and never let him go. He didn't know what he wanted, what he felt.

"Bath now," Otabek said softly, but it still felt like a command. When he backed away, Katsudon's head was resting against Otabek's arm, and Victor was smiling at him. It wasn't that they didn't need him, he told himself. They were letting him have his space.

Yuri took a bath.

When he got out, feeling more alive in his fresh, clean clothes, the boys were sitting around the coffee table. Both had the French toast already cut up into small pieces, and they were chatting together around mouthfuls. Yuri went to Otabek.

He wanted to wrap his arms around the other man's waist and put his face between his shoulder blades and never let go, but he settled for sitting at the island. He wasn't there more than thirty seconds when Otabek plated the French toast, turned off the burner, and sat the plate in front of him. A second later, butter and syrup appeared, and after another heartbeat, Otabek pulled out the chair next to him, joining him at the island.

For the first time since the Grand Prix Finals last year, Yuri thought everything might turn out okay. Even if he couldn't do. Even if he didn't win. Maybe this would be enough.

* * *

When it was just the three of them again, Yuri was in agony. His feet hurt despite the fact that he hadn't pushed himself any harder than usual at practice. He knew, objectively, that his feet always hurt, since he was a little kid. Of course, they hurt more this past year and a half, when he started pushing himself to push Katsudon, but it was like he was suddenly aware of how bad they hurt.

How bad  _everything_  hurt.

With his mind not focused on the win, all he could think about was the pain.

His sides had the familiar ping of growing pains, and he laid on the couch, staring at the cartoon without processing anything.

This wasn't as familiar as the anger, but it was something he was still aware of. He knew he had it in him, growing, like a cancer, all the time. For the first time, he thought about Katsudon. The anxiety, the fear, crying in the bathroom when he truly had been the sixth best skater in the world, and Yuri knew they were similar. It wasn't the same fruit, exactly. But they both ate from the same poisoned tree of self-doubt.

As the minutes ticked into half an hour, an hour, Yuri tried his best to get up, to do something, do  _anything_. He could dance, or they could go for a walk. Both had already had baths, that he knew, but maybe they could give Makkachin a bath. This was their last change of clothes, so he should take them to the basement and do their laundry. Anything that wasn't sitting here thinking the same few thoughts over and over again:  _twelve one-hundredths, a inch and a half in a year ("Five foot five and a_ half _!" Yakov had said, like he was proud), god knows how many pounds of his thin frame growing with muscle._

The Grand Prix gold felt like a noose when he had to defend it.

At some point, Victor must have wandered away because when he came back, he sat carefully on the edge of the couch. Yuri looked at him, but the boy just placed something on his chest, out of his line of vision. It was a good move, Yuri thought bitterly, because he had to move to grab it.

It was a CD case.

Yuri pulled the case closer to his face. It was an old t.A.T.u. CD, and he frowned at the thought of it. He turned it to the back, looking for a copy-write date. 2002. Victor would have been twelve when this came out.

"What about it?"

"I want to listen to it."

"Why?" Yuri asked. "Did you pick it at random?"

"Nah," Victor said with a grin. "I remember it. I remember some of the songs."

Yuri found himself sitting up, gripping the case as tight as he could. Was this it? Were the kids growing back up?

"Yeah, okay," Yuri said, putting his feet on the ground and pushing up to lean forward. He paused the mindless show he had been staring at on Netflix, minimized it, and pushed the button on the side of the computer. This disc tray popped out, and Yuri put the CD in, almost delicately, afraid Victor would forget or he would somehow manage to break it.

The music player popped up, and Yuri hit play on the CD.

Yuri sat back a little, looking at the case again. He read the name of the first song. "Wait," he said. "I know this one, too.  _Nas Ne Dogonyat?"_

"Yeah," Victor said. When the song started, Yuri nodded.

"They sang it at the Sochi Olympics during the opening ceremony."

"When were the Olympics in Sochi?" Victor asked, but Yuri ignored him, looking down at the CD. He remembered this band, but not during their heyday because he had been a kid. But he did remember hearing them on the radio from time to time, and sometimes Victor would play their stuff when he skated, when Georgi busted out some stuff from his childhood and Victor, being the eldest, wanted to spread some wisdom.

They had all gone to the Olympics; they had seen them performing at the Olympics. Yuri had been too young to compete, but he went with a bunch of the juniors and Yakov.

Victor walked away, to where Katsudon was drawing near the door with Makkachin holding dominion, singing softly under his breath,  _"Nothing can stop us, not now I have you. They're not gonna get us."_

For most of the next hour, Yuri sat on the couch, listening to the CD. He pulled up the English lyrics (then the Russian ones when he got later into the album), reading along as Victor sang softly to himself. The kid knew almost all of them. Only once did he bounce back over to Yuri, demanding he change the song because he didn't like that one. Yuri knew most of the lyrics anyway, but reading along, listening as Victor had one thread to his real life, seemed to lift the blond's spirits.

When the CD finished, Yuri started it over. He checked the clock, knowing Otabek couldn't be much longer. Maybe he would text him and see how practice had gone. Instead, he stood up, still feeling sore and achy, but ignoring it to pad over to where the kids were sitting on the floor.

They were still coloring. Where they got paper and pencils and crayons, Yuri didn't know, but when he sat down cross-legged next to them, neither kid tried to hide their work from him. Victor was coloring a page out of a book.

"It's Lion King," Victor said, holding up the picture, pushing it toward Yuri. "Mama took me to go see it in the  _theatre_  last year. So cool!"

Yuri smiled, nodding. "Nice, Vitya."

Victor grinned, putting the picture back on the floor, continuing the progress. Yuri was just about to ask Yuuri when the littlest boy put his crayon down, declaring, "Done."

For a second, he seemed to look down at it. Yuri looked, too, and took a deep breath in. Finally, the kid took the paper delicately, holding it up, passing it to Yuri. The blond took it in his hands, trying not to touch it. It felt like holding a masterpiece.

It wasn't a coloring sheet like Victor's, but something the kid had drawn on a piece of blank paper. It seemed really good for three, seemed better than something Yuri could draw now. It was the four of them. Even though only three of the four of them were labeled with their names underneath, the man all the way on the left had to be Otabek. How could a kid get his hair so perfectly? Otabek was smiling and holding Yuri's hand. The blond was wearing his Russia warm up, which he had on right now. Yuuri hadn't drawn  _stick figures_ ; he drew them as crude, but real people. Yuri was reaching low, holding a little Yuuri's hand, who, in turn, was holding Victor's.

It looked like a drawing a little kid would make of his  _family_. When the image started to blur, Yuri realized he was tearing up.

"I didn't know how to spell his name," Yuuri admitted, crawling closer to Yuri, practically draping himself across his side to point at Otabek. "Will you help me?"

"Sure," Yuri said, sitting the picture back down. He waited for Yuuri to pick up the crayon, then spelled Otabek's name, letter-by-letter. When he was done, Yuri picked the picture back up, still looking down at it. Despite the fact the kid couldn't remember, he had drawn himself in his Mizuno warm up. Victor was wearing purple, but he had lines of gold on his chest. Was that supposed to be Victor's  _Stammi Vicino_  outfit?

"Do you like it?"

Yuri looked back down at the boy. His shoulder was pressing into the blond's side, and as soon as the words left him, he put his fingers in his mouth. His eyes seemed so large, so open and vulnerable, Yuri would have lied if he needed to.

But he didn't need to.

"I love it," he reached out an arm, side-hugging the kid, who seemed to visibly relax. "Can we hang it on the fridge?"

Yuuri smiled around his fingers, turning a bit pink, and he nodded.

The kid stood up first, letting Yuri up. Together, they walked to the refrigerator. Victor had a few magnets on there, and Yuri grabbed the most unobtrusive two he could find to put on the top corners. He put it at about his chest height. That way, he could still see it, but so could Yuuri.

"Wait," Victor called, running up. He plopped his Lion King coloring page just under Katsudon's picture, picking the two ugliest magnets to hold it. In the bottom corner, he had scribbled his name. To be honest, it wasn't very different from his adult signature.

For a long moment, the three of them admired the handiwork, but then Victor was tugging at Yuri's sleeve.

"C'mon, Yurio. Let's dance."

And how was he supposed to argue with that?

It wasn't much later, however, that Yuri and the boys were jumping and spinning around the room, singing along with t.A.T.u., which normally would have only been really embarrassing. It was mortifying when Yuri caught himself singing,  _"Show me love, 'til I'm screaming for more,"_  and spun around, finding himself face-to-face with Otabek.

Yuri felt himself sweating, but Otabek just held up a paper bag inside a plastic bag, announcing, "I got Thai for lunch," like he hadn't just killed his friend with embarrassment.

Still on fire, Yuri scrambled to the laptop to pause the music, then made his way to the kitchen to find plates. It wasn't until he brought the utensils back to the living room that he noticed that wasn't the only thing Otabek had brought. He must have stopped by his little, rented apartment. Yakov kept them for visiting skaters. The man had a messenger bag sitting by the end table, but not the one he used for carting his stuff to and from the gym with.

" _Moana_  is about a girl who lives on an island in the pacific and she has to go on a quest to save her people," Otabek said, setting the DVD down on the coffee table. Both boys were on either side of him were quiet, looking at Otabek like he was the guy who wrote and drew the movie. " _Frozen_  is about this girl who has magic ice powers, but she's scared of them so her sister has to help her with that." He put the case for Frozen down, too. "So, we can watch them both, but which one would you like to watch during lunch?"

Victor took the plate that Yuri offered him before turning toward Otabek suspiciously. " _When_  can we watch the other one?"

Otabek turned to look at Yuri, who sat down on the other side of Katsudon. He shrugged. "Um," Otabek said. "Right after? Or we could watch it during dinner tonight. Or tomorrow. Whenever you want."

Victor looked around Otabek at Yuuri. The two of them did some weird hand gestures, finally ending with three simultaneous head nods.

" _Moana_  first," Yuuri said.

"Okay," Otabek said, popping in the DVD and piling food on their plates.

* * *

Victor  _loved_  Moana. Yuri hadn't ever seen it, but it was pretty obvious that Otabek had. Where did he get the DVD, the blond couldn't help but think. Was it his personal copy? Did he steal it from his little sister? Did he stop on his way over and buy it?

After lunch was done, Katsudon had crawled into Yuri's lap to watch the rest of the movie, and for once, his weight didn't feel like a strain on his sore muscles. When the movie was over, Otabek stood to take the plates to the kitchen and Victor jumped up too. Without Otabek needing to ask, the kid grabbed some of the garbage and followed the teenage to the kitchen.

Katsudon stood up, so Yuri did, too, stretching his back and watching the boys. Victor was giving Otabek a play-by-play, as if they hadn't all just watched it together. He was flitting back and forth until the dark-haired teen handed down a dry hand towel. He didn't speak, just handed Victor a wet plate and the kid set to work, still talking a mile a minute as he dried.

"I feel the same way," Victor said, looking down at the plate. "About the ocean, I mean. Mama takes me to the beach sometimes. I love the sound of the seagulls. I just want to see what else is out there. All of it. It's the Bay of Finland, you know? But I've never been to Finland. I want to see all of it."

"You will," Otabek said. "A sorts of places. Chicago, Los Angeles, Toronto, Paris, Barcelona, Tokyo, Beijing, PyeogChang. You'll go everywhere."

"Yeah?" Victory asked, his voice smaller than it had been. "Do I take a boat?"

"Well, not really," Otabek said. "But you could. I think I would rather do a cruise ship than ride that little boat Moana had across the Bay of Finland. Or any ocean."

Victor hummed his agreement. "What about you? Did you grow up near the ocean?"

"Nah," Otabek shrugged. "Kazakhstan's landlocked. The Caspian Sea is to the west, but Almaty, the city I grew up in, is in the south-east of the country. But I moved to St. Petersburg when I was thirteen. I've been everywhere since then."

"You came back here to train with us?"

"Sort of," Otabek said. "There's a competition in Moscow next week. I was invited to train with you until then."

"Oh," Victor said, finally handing the plate back, even though it must have been dried forever ago. While Otabek put the plate back in the cupboard, Yuri saw Victor look at him. The kid had the same sad face about Otabek leaving again that Yuri could feel on his own face. Victor turned back to the taller man. "Can we go to Moscow with you?"

Otabek laughed, taking the drying rag from the kid and drying his hands, hanging it up when he was done. "Of course. I think we were all planning on going anyway."

"Then we can all come back here when it's done," Victor tried. Otabek put his hand on the kid's head, running his fingers through Victor's thin hair.

"After that's done, we have the Grand Prix finals in Japan," Otabek said. "There isn't a  _done_  for skaters, Victor."

"But you could stay here and train," Victor said, throwing another look at Yuri, looking for help in how to make their friend stay. Yuri sighed. Fuck if he knew how to do that.

"His rink is back home, Vitya," Yuri said, walking toward them. Otabek looked just as lost as Victor did, unable to explain to a child why he would have to leave. "In Almaty. It's where he lives, with his family. That would be like if we were visiting him and he begged us to stay. Your home is St. Petersburg. It… almost always has been."

"Almost?" Victor asked.

"Hasetsu," Yuuri said, grabbing Victor's hand. The kid took it, looking down at the smallest boy with a frown. For a second, Yuri thought the kid remembered when Victor left Russia for him, but then he added, "is my home."

"Hasetsu?" Victor asked, and for a second, a glorious, beautiful second, Yuri was sure Victor remembered. But then, the kid ripped his hand away from Yuuri's and he stormed toward the living room. "So you're just going to leave me too?"

"Victor…"

"Why does everyone  _leave me_?" He cried, throwing himself on the couch. "Why doesn't anyone ever  _stay_?"

Otabek picked up Katsudon, who had tears in his eyes, but he looked past him, toward the blond. Yuri shrugged. He knew nothing about kids, knew nothing about when Victor was a kid. He only knew what he didn't know – Victor didn't talk about a family, not once in the past five years, he had nothing really holding him in St. Petersburg – but adult Victor never seemed to feel abandoned.

Yuri didn't know how to make him feel better. He could lie and tell the kid they would be a nice family forever, but that wasn't realistic. Victor wouldn't last much more than this season, and the two of them would probably go back to Hasetsu, leaving Yuri alone in Russia again. Otabek would train in Almaty, probably until he retired. If he followed Victor's path, he could last another ten years.

If Yuri could figure out how to make his body work for him again, he could have fourteen years left in the sport, if he could slow down and protect himself better.

They would be together again for moments. The Grand Prix. Likely the Olympics. Weddings. They were friends after all. But it wouldn't last.  _People_  don't last.

"You can come with me."

Victor's head poked up over the back of the couch. There were tears in his eyes, and he glared at the kid in Otabek's arms, but Yuuri just started wiggling. Otabek put him down and Katsudon marched over to the couch.

"When I go home," Yuuri declared. "You can come with me. We can play at my house."

Victor glared for another second or two before he rushed to the end of the couch, pulling Katsudon into a hug.

When the crisis seemed like it was averted, Yuri frowned at Otabek. "I get that they're kids right now, but I think them  _playing_  at his house is what got us all into this trouble in the first place."

Otabek laughed, and Yuri looked up at him. He looked like a person who had been holding his breath, who just came up for air. His hand found Yuri's shoulder and he squeezed.

Yuri smiled.

* * *

They decided to save Frozen for later, so against his better judgement, Yuri let the kids talk him into going back to the park. Otabek didn't ask, even as Yuri knew he was visibly chewing on the inside of his mouth, hoping that asshole lady wasn't there. The four of them and Makkachin were mostly quiet on the way to the park, which was likely Yuri's fault.

The kids were probably picking up on Yuri's anxiety.

This time, he  _vowed_  to watch them.

Which, it turned out, was a lot easier with two sets of eyes.

It was a warmer day, too, so even as the hours dragged by, the kids didn't complain about getting cold. If anything, Yuri was the first to grow cold. But that was because in the middle of a rousing game of tag, Otabek jumped over a half-melted slush puddle. Yuri was  _that_  close to catching him, so he was too close to jump. He wasn't sure if it was that he had a hole in his sneakers or it was the ankle-deep puddle he stepped in, but his right foot was soaked and freezing when he finally slapped Otabek's back, but at the time, it had been worth it.

Sloshing back to his apartment to change his shoes and socks had been a different matter. Luckily, the kids didn't complain or lolly gag. That might have been the threats, though. Yuri's favorite was, "We can't go skating tomorrow if I lose my foot to hypothermia."

When they went to Yuri's apartment, Potya was sitting on the table, even though she knew she wasn't supposed to be up there. She looked like she was in a better mood, too, not even running away when Otabek walked right up to her. He offered her his hand, empty but palm up, and she sniffed at him.

Victor and Katsudon were at his side, and Yuri shut the door, sitting down and ripping off his shoes and socks as fast as he could. His pants were wet, too, so he took off toward his bedroom.

From the living room, he heard Victor call out to him, "Yurio? What's your cat's name?"

"Puma Tiger Scorpion," Otabek said. "Potya for short."

Yuri held up the pair of pants he was going to change in to, freezing. He wasn't  _embarrassed_  about the name, per se, but there was no way he would have told Otabek what Potya stood for. His grandpa gave him Potya when he moved to St. Petersburg, so he wouldn't be alone. He'd been  _a kid_ when he named her.

"Wow," Katsudon said. "That's a cool name." Yuri was quick to change his pants, draping the wet ones over a chair to dry. He grabbed socks and join them back in the main room. "I think I used to have a dog."

"Aw," Victor said. "I love doggies. What was his name?"

When Yuri sat down on the floor, Potya jumped off the table. She walked up to him, rubbing herself against his leg. He held out his hand and pet her, but his eyes were on Yuuri. All of them were looking at Yuuri. He turned red, turned toward Yuri, and sat down beside him.

"I think his name was Vicchan," Katsudon said, promptly putting his fingers in his mouth and looking away, like that was the end of the conversation. A second later, his eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up his forehead and there were tears in his eyes. His hands left his mouth and he looked back at the blond. "Were we too late?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your feet," Yuuri said, gesturing down. "Do you have to cut them off?"

Yuri looked down at his own feet. They always looked like that, and for a long second, he couldn't even understand what the kid meant. But then he did. His feet were a train wreck. He always had good skates, but that wasn't enough. The impact of jumping, the tightness of the laces… he couldn't remember if he ever had a time when his feet weren't banged up. He had blisters and bruises, sprains on bad days.

He  _always_  wore socks, even to bed.

Lilia had told him to smile through the pain once, when he went on pointe when he already had a stress fracture. He had  _done_ it, but the second he stepped off the dance floor, when the routine was over and he could finally get off his aching foot, he had burst in to tears.  _"Smile, Yurochka. Or you will always be crying."_

Skaters were bad enough about their feet, Yuri knew. Every ounce of him was screaming to hide them, to not show this weakness, but Yuri was a dancer, too. A ballerina. And they were always a thousand times worse.

Even though he didn't perform ballet like Lilia did, he trained with them. He heard a girl break something in the middle of a rehearsal.  _She kept going_  and when the doctors tried to force her to take her shoes off so he could see, she smacked him across the face like he had asked to see her naked chest instead. Every dancer Yuri knew was  _that_  sensitive about their feet. Ironically, the thing that made the dancers look so beautiful were always the ugliest part of their body.

Otabek was sitting down across from Yuri, his shoe already in his hand. He sat it to the side, then pulled off his sock and rolled up his pant leg. "That's just how it is."

Yuri looked up, his own vision swimming, to look at Otabek's foot. It wasn't as bad with the bruises, but they weren't much better. Skates were made to look sleek and pretty, after all. They weren't made to protect the skater or be comfortable. Finally Victor sat down, ripping off his as well. His foot was bruised, as well.

"You still do it?" Yuuri asked, "Even though it hurts?"

"Of course," Otabek said. "What was that thing  _he_  said? Everything on the ice is love?"

For the first time, Yuri found himself smiling at some disgusting thing that Victor said. When Katsudon looked back at him, Yuri nodded. "You should see Miniko's feet sometime. Even if she doesn't dance much anymore, the wear and tear remains. Lilia said when she first went to the doctor, she had been in her twenties. The guy told her he had eighty year olds who had healthier feet."

Even Victor was quiet, like he was judging whether or not this pain and torture would be something he could endure for a lifetime. Not for the first time, Yuri wondered how he could try to make a comeback at twenty-eight. Not for the first time, Yuri was scared that Victor was going to end up hurting himself.

"Hey," Yuri said, finally giving into the urge and tucking his feet under him, hiding them. He leaned forward and pointed to a drawer. "Why don't you guys feed Potya? She loves everyone who feeds her… or well, not  _loves_  but  _tolerates_ , I guess."

The kids scrambled up, rushing to the drawer. Yuri waited for Otabek to leave to, but he just laughed, putting his sock and shoe back on. "She probably got that from you."

"What –"

When the blond still hadn't moved, Otabek touched his knee. Slowly, like he was scared of spooking him, Otabek reached out with his other hand and took the socks from his friend. Then he stood and walked away. Yuri's heart was pounding in his chest, but Otabek returned quickly. The perks of being a skater was that the first aid kit was never buried. It was sitting right out in the bathroom. When Otabek sat back down, Yuri kept his feet under him and shook his head.

"The blister's going to burst," Otabek said, his voice always so freaking gentle. "Let me help."

Yuri hesitated. It wasn't easy, he knew, to share something with another person. Otabek could see the height thing, even if he didn't comment. There was no way he didn't realize they were a little less than an inch apart. Yuri couldn't hide his personality, how he was more of a brat than a soldier, but Otabek looked past that.

But Otabek looking at his feet was bad enough, weak enough. He would die if Otabek touched them.

Otabek held Yuri's gaze until the blond looked away. A long moment later, Otabek held out the first aid kit. "You  _have_  to take care of yourself then," Otabek said, but he paused, his voice softening. "I'll keep them busy if you want to do it alone, but you should take care of yourself. We all have a breaking point, and there's no use pushing it just to walk, Yura."

Otabek stood and walked back to the kids. They had made a mess, of course, and Yuri went into his room. He did take his time, took  _care_  of himself, but it still felt good to put socks on, to hide. When he came back to the living room, the mess was cleaned up.

* * *

On their way back home, Yuri made the mistake of asking them what they wanted for dinner. Victor wanted priozhki; Yuuri wanted katsudon. There was only one solution. So they went shopping.

Shopping for anything other than clothes always sent Yuri into a rage. People were  _morons_. They parked their stupid carts in the middle of the lane and wouldn't move unless asked and if he tried to duck around them, they called him names. The butchers didn't know shit and figured he didn't know shit, either. There was always an old person in line ahead of him, counting out change for their whole stupid purchase.

He felt himself growing hostile the minute he walked in.

Otabek grabbed a cart, making a show of swinging Katsudon up like he weighed nothing before setting him in the front of it. The kid laughed, and when Otabek turned to Yuri, he simply asked, "You want the other brat in the cart, too?"

Victor turned around and started fuming, but Yuri found himself smiling. As Otabek followed Yuri, he leaned his forearms against the cart, making himself look stupid and short and  _so freaking attractive_  while he whispered to the kid that Yuri found it difficult to focus on anything else. Including what he needed to buy.  _Including_  the absence of his usual rage.

While they were there, they picked up some other things, too, things for lunches and snacks. After spotting some flour, Otabek put some in the cart, then led them around some more, getting more things. "I can make  _baursak_  for breakfast tomorrow."

But when they got to the check out, Yuri felt like there was a pit in his stomach. He had been adding up the food as they went along, and if he realized feeding four people was going to break the bank, he would have left them at the park and moved to a different city. Victor and Otabek put the crap from the cart to the conveyer belt. Yuri was trying to figure out what he would be left with while everything rang up.

Yuri got the kid out of the cart, but it was kind of struggle because of the way his legs fit in those stupid little holes, but the kid was trying his best to help. When he was free, Yuri settled him on his hip.

The total came, and Yuri started digging for his card, but Otabek was quicker. Despite the protest, Otabek just pushed the cart backwards into the blond, grinning when it hit him lightly in the side, and then Otabek instructed Victor to take the cart back. When the transaction was done, Yuri put the kid down and started picking up bags, stunned into silence.

Drinks were one thing, right? But this was  _groceries_.

Victor helped Otabek carry the rest of the bags. The two were chatting about Moana again, and Victor was trying to get some more details about Frozen, but Otabek wasn't having it. After struggling with the bags and the leash, Otabek took a few more bags and let Victor run ahead with Makkachin, as long as he promised not to cross any roads until they were all together.

"I could have paid," Yuri blurted out, and Otabek shrugged.

"True. But I can't cook whatever a katsudon pirozhki is. So we'll split the load. I pay. You cook. I'll do the laundry if you do the dishes. That sort of thing," Otabek nudged him with his elbow. "I told you I would help take care of them when I thought they were just sick, Yura. This is way better than cleaning up puke."

Was this his life now? Yuri wasn't angry but his heart was still racing. This was why people had kids, he already had discovered. They were cute and sometimes they made him feel better and it felt rewarding, even though he was sure he was just barely keeping them alive. Was this why people did the whole family thing? So he could not get kicked out of stores for swearing and starting fights with assholes? So someone could pay if he made dinner? So they could split chores?

When they got back home – no, not  _home_ , to Victor's apartment – Victor started taking off his shoes, but Otabek stopped him. Instead, while Yuri put everything away, the other two gathered the two sets of dirty kids clothes that they weren't wearing.

While Yuri stood in the kitchen, he watched with complete disbelief. Otabek had been  _serious_  about that?

"Hey," he called, bringing Yuri's backpack over to him. "What have you already worn? There's not a full load with what we've got, so we might as well get yours too."

Yuri was pretty sure what he emptied from the bag was what he already wore. He was so warm he thought he might explode. Jesus Christ, this  _is_  why people had families, wasn't it? So he didn't have to do it all himself. How was he ever going to survive without this, when the kids grew up and Otabek went back to Almaty?

"You okay?" Otabek asked, putting the hamper of clothes under one arm and leaning toward the other teenager. He put his hand on his shoulder, and Yuri wanted it gone. He wanted them all gone  _right now_. He didn't want to have it, not even for a second, if he couldn't keep it forever.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice flat to his own ears. He wanted to scream  _leave me alone_ , but Otabek fucking Altin might actually honor his wishes. Somehow, that would kill him more. Instead, he looked away. Yuuri was gathering up the paper and moving it to the kitchen so he could draw while Yuri cooked, and Victor was standing by the door with a thing of laundry detergent, waiting for Otabek.

He heard a soft  _'hmm'_  from above him and felt Otabek's arm go around his shoulders. For a second, he thought the older teenager was hugging him, but then he felt the warm lips on the top of his head again. "You're not a very good liar, Yura."

Yuri didn't look up until the other teen was gone, but Yuri was still beat red.

Katsudon was already deep into his art work, so Yuri went to the bedroom, grabbing the laptop. Victor might want to watch something, but Yuri needed a distraction, like, yesterday, so he put it on the counter and loaded up Pandora. He kept it on Victor's Today's Hits station, but he vowed to Thumbs Up anything he liked.

Somehow, messing up adult-Victor's Pandora was a soothing thought. It was something he knew he would do. It wasn't any of this weirdness of the past few days. With those two gone, Yuuri quietly drawing  _just_  out of the way but still in his line of sight, and the music going, Yuri could get lost in his task. He didn't have to be thinking about anything else, like Otabek washing his clothes, or Otabek eating the pirozhki that Yuri made for him, or Otabek offering to dress his wounded feet for him, or why Otabek kept  _kissing_  him.

He was quick to whip up the dough for the pirozhki, sitting it, covered, on the stove to rise.

The door opened and closed, but Yuri kept focusing on the food. Victor joined Katsudon on the floor, and Otabek was stepping in beside Yuri a beat later. "Where'd you put the flour?"

Yuri nodded to the cupboard, frowning as Otabek went on to get all the ingredients out. "You said for tomorrow?"

"The dough needs to rise for a while," Otabek said. "Technically, baursak is a dessert, but Mira likes to eat them for breakfast."

"Mira?" Yuri asked. "Your sister?"

"Yeah," Otabek grinned. "My parents call her Princess Elmira, but she hates it."

Yuri wanted nothing more than to cook this damn rice and dough and fry the pork. Actually, he wanted nothing more than to be sitting alone in his house, eating toast for dinner (because he was still kind of scared about the weight and the height he was gaining), reading while Potya did her best to block the words. At least then, he didn't need to be here, thinking and feeling things he shouldn't be thinking and feeling.

"Tell me about her," Yuri said instead, cursing himself.

"She's ten," Otabek said, eyes on the bowl as he mixed the different ingredients. "We're just under ten years apart, but she's awesome. She's missing her two front teeth still. A boy punched her in school, but she only lost her baby teeth. He looked like a train wreck. She likes braids and dresses, but she also loves Black Widow and she wants to be a ballerina  _and_  an assassin."

Yuri found himself smiling, dredging the pork and putting it on the fryer. "She sounds amazing."

"She sounds more like you than me," Otabek admitted. "She's a hellcat. She's spitfire. She's Edward Norton beating the shit out of Jared Leto just because he wants to destroy something beautiful."

"What?"

"What?" Otabek asked, turning toward the blond. "You've never seen  _Fight Club?_  You've never  _read_   _Fight Club?_ "

"No," Yuri said, turning back to the pork.

"You're so interesting." This time, when Yuri looked up at Otabek, the man was smiling back at him. He had abandoned his jacket, wearing only a tight t-shirt. The arms of it seemed to strain as Otabek kneeled the dough, and Yuri regretted looking. "You're the single most interesting person I've ever met."

"I don't…"

Otabek's focus remained on the dough, but he spoke quickly, quietly, like it was some great secret that needed to be said. "How can you be so beautiful, so emotive when you skate, but be such a  _shit_  in real life?"

The growl happened before Yuri could stop it, and when Otabek turned to him, he was grinning.

"That's  _exactly_  what I mean. How can you be ready for a fight  _constantly_? Aren't you tired? Isn't that exhausting?"

Yuri felt himself defusing as fast as he had riled himself up, flipping the pork and frowning. He  _was_  tired. It  _was_  exhausting being on edge always, but it wasn't like he knew any different. He wasn't Victor, no matter what Yakov called him after a few too many drinks. Victor was kind of a dick too, but it was mostly aloofness and insensitivity. Yuri was different. He went for the throat over any perceived slight. He threaten Katsudon in a bathroom on the worst night of his life because they  _had the same name_. He didn't know any other way.

He was  _ashamed_  of himself after, but he didn't have the foresight to change.

"Alright, Victor," Otabek said, covering the bowl of kneaded dough with a clean dish towel and putting it away from the window for it to rise overnight. "Ready to put the clothes in the dryer?"

Victor whined, and Otabek didn't fight him, didn't force him to help. Free of the elder teen for a few minutes, Yuri expected peace. The pork was done cooking, so he put it on the back burner, checking the rice. It was okay if any of it cooled down because it would be baked again in the pirozhki, but he didn't want to start the egg until the dough was closer to being done.

Instead, Victor was at his side. "Okay, here's a list of things I know impress people: one, being beautiful, two, being a good cook, and three, being successful. So you're like all those things, so why is he calling you a shit?"

Yuuri put his hands over his mouth, but Victor just held the glare Yuri was throwing at him. "Don't swear."

"You do it."

"I'm an adult."

"Nope," Victor poked him in the chest. "I distinctly remember you telling me you were a teenager, so there."

"Listen, can we  _not_?" Yuri asked. "Let me cook your stupid dinner, let's eat the stupid dinner, and lets hope everything is back to normal when we wake up."

"That won't work," Victor cried, this time grabbing a fistful of Yuri's shirt and throwing his head back, every ounce of drama queen that he's always been. "If Moana went to bed and hoped it would be better when she woke up, they'd all be  _dead_."

"That's a Disney movie, Victor."

"I'm  _too young_  to be  _dead_ , Yurio!"

"You're not going to die," Yuri hissed, but even he was pretty sure that was true, if a random force of nature could turn two adults into kids, he didn't really want to press his luck any further. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Just  _kiss him_ ," Victor said. "He looks at you like the stars shine for you. He wants you to kiss him."

"I'm pretty sure you have hundreds of lawsuits out because you actually believe that," Yuri muttered, but Victor ignored him.

"Don't you like him?"

A supercut of moments ran through his head.  _Be my friend or not?_  was was mixed with  _Davai!_  and a year's worth of text messages, Snapchats, Instagram pics and likes and comments. It was the look on Otabek's face when he flew in from Almaty and saw them waiting for him at the airport in St. Petersburg. It was the way he talked to the kids, talked about his sister, talked to Yuri when the blond wanted to tear his own hair out and stab something with a screwdriver because he was so frustrated in himself.

And it was better, easier to hurt others than himself, even though he knew who he hated, who was to blame.

It was Otabek Altin, who seemed to place first in any event he wasn't competing against Yuri and Yuuri in, sitting in front of him with a first aid kit, offering to  _help_.

"See," Victor let go, and for some reason, Yuri felt cold. "That's the problem. It isn't him. You could do push ups all night long. You could take your clothes off and talk to him, naked, in the bath. It isn't  _him_ , Yurio. It's  _you_."

"I know that," he hissed. "I've always known that. I don't deserve him. I don't deserve you or Katuski. Why do you think I'm  _like this_?"

"Yurochka," Victor said, but the blond batted his hand away, turning back to the rice. He turned the burner off and put the rice off to the side. He wanted to check the dough but he knew it wouldn't be done, and if he lifted the towel, it would mess up the yeast. Instead, he had nowhere to go, nothing to do, but look back at Victor. "That's not true."

"Can you give me a minute?" He asked, putting the spoon on a napkin on the counter.

"Are you okay?"

"Please," Yuri said, walking past him. "Please just leave me alone for a  _minute_."

Victor nodded, but Yuri didn't wait for permission. He was quick to shut himself in the bathroom, hands shaking while he fumbled with the locks. Yuri shut the seat cover and sat on the toilet, drawing his feet up, so his knees were at his chest. He tried to breathe, tried to remember what Lilia told him.

 _You're beautiful_ , he thought to himself.  _You'll always be beautiful. You can be six five. You can gain weight. You don't need gold metals to prove you're a worthwhile person._

But he didn't believe it, so he thought it again.

And again.

When his minute was up, Yuri wasn't sure he believed that he mattered without the gold. He wasn't sure if he deserved friends or happiness outside of his success, but he was able to exhale, letting his feet back down and look at himself in the mirror. He was able to breathe, and he left the bathroom.

The subject was dropped. Victor didn't talk to him when he went back to the stove. In fact, Victor was trying  _so hard_  to respect Yuri's wishes that he was practically coloring through the paper. Katsudon looked up at him, like he knew something wasn't right, but Yuri doubted a three-year-old could understand.

So when the song changed, Yuri took a deep breath in and long breath out. Then he started to dance. It wasn't even dancing, really. He was just swaying along, trying to focus on something else, to push the thoughts away.

Victor was nothing less than bewildered, but Yuuri got up, tripping over himself to hold his hands up. Yuri took them, and they stood apart, one swaying, one tapping his toes in like he was doing an especially awkward Hokey Pokey, but Yuri found himself smiling.

 _Smile_ , Lilia had said.  _Or you will always be crying_.

A song later and Yuri didn't feel so much like he was smiling to stop himself from crying but smiling because he felt  _okay_  again. That was about the time Victor started dancing, too. Then, Yuuri dropped his hands but not his awkward dance. Victor was trying to show him how to move his hips, but that was just as funny as his toe-taps. The taller boy's hands were on the littlest kid's hips, pushing him from side to side. Katsudon was laughing, and when Victor let go, he  _was_  moving his hips.

But he also looked like he was trying to hoola-hoop.

When the song changed again, Yuri heard the door open and for a second, he paused. He was quick to recover, still swaying along as Victor tried to teach Yuuri how to  _cha cha_ , but the kid couldn't even sway, so it wasn't really effective. Yuri tried demonstrating, too, dancing along with the Latin beat.

Katsudon just laughed, adding the swaying back and forth with the weird toe-steps from before. It was close enough for Victor, who tried to  _lead_  someone who didn't even realize they were dancing together.

"You know how to dance?" Otabek asked. Yuri turned himself on a forward step of the cha cha, keeping it going as he faced his friend. He felt brave, suddenly.  _It's you_ , he thought.  _He likes you_. "Well, I mean, besides ballet?"

"After you quit our novice class, we had a guest teacher for several weeks. He didn't like ballet at all, but he was into a ballroom kick, so he taught us a bunch of these stupid dances," Yuri admitted, pointing his thumb to the little monster behind him.

Otabek's grin looked evil. "No way."

"For being a decent coach and a great choreographer, he's a real shit teacher."

"You seem to know what you're doing," Otabek admitted, and Yuri moved closer, holding one hand toward Otabek's shoulder, the other to where their hands would rest together if the other boy decided to join. Yuri saw color appear on the elder teen's cheeks. "I don't know how."

"I'm a better teacher," Yuri lied, his left hand finding Otabek's right. When he didn't pull it away, he placed it on his hip. Otabek kept it there, but at first it seemed like he wasn't touching at all, then he gripped at the fabric of Yuri's shirt. The blond placed his hand on Otabek's shoulder, nodding toward his other hand.

Otabek took it.

"Feel?" Yuri asked. His left foot stayed mostly where it was. He stepped forward and swayed that way, then to his left. While he was swaying to the left, he brought his right foot back, swaying that way, then back to the left. "Just repeat that. You're opposite of me, so when I step back…"

"I move forward," Otabek said, keeping a wide space between their bodies so he could look down at his feet.

While the taller boy focused on the movement, the blond smiled. With his head bent forward, they were the same height. He was the same height as Otabek and planes didn't fall out of the sky and earthquakes didn't destroy the earth. Then Otabek's hand on his hip relaxed. He was no longer gripping the shirt, but had his palm flat. When Yuri swayed to his left again, Otabek's eyes snapped up at him.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

But Otabek just nodded.

It wasn't long after that the song ended. He was the first to stop, but Otabek was the first to back away, to drop his hands. Victor was clapping, suddenly  _gushing_  about how good of a teacher Yuri must be and how he wished  _he_  could have danced with him, and Otabek drew a hand through his own hair.

When Otabek turned to the fridge to get something to drink, Victor held out a fist to the blond. Although he swore against ever doing this with Victor again after the  _Bump of Shame in 2016_ , the kid probably didn't remember that. Yuri made a fist and tapped them together.

Yuri pulled out another pan to start the egg before dragging the dough back to the counter and started the pirozhki.

"Hey, Yuuri?" Otabek asked. When both looked he amended, "Little Yuuri. When did you draw this?"

"This morning," the kid turned back to his new drawing. That one on the refrigerator was old news. "It's us."

"I see that."

"My parents and sister are in Japan, and yours are in… Kaz…uh…"

"Kazakhstan."

"Yeah," Yuuri said. "Kazakhstan. And Yuri's grandpa is in Moscow, and Victor…" Yuuri looked back up at the them and smiled. "So if we're all here alone together, we might as well be family."

"Yeah," Yuri found himself saying, cutting and flattening the dough. "I think that's a great idea."

This time when Victor looked at him, he didn't offer a fist bump, but the smile was enough.

* * *

When the pirozhki were almost done baking, Yuri brought the laptop back to the living room and Otabek switched Moana out for Frozen. The food went over so well that it was gone by the time Anna met Hans outside the gates. Yuri cleared their dishes, not freaking out when Otabek raised his hand, letting his fingers brush against Yuri's arm as he walked by as a silent  _thank you_. When he sat back down, he sat on the floor in front of Otabek, next to Yuuri. Victor was quick to bounce back up to the couch, leaning against the taller teen.

Yuri wasn't sure when he leaned back into Otabek's legs, but as Elsa started singing  _Let it Go_ , Yuri felt fingers in his hair. He turned around, but Otabek had a clump of it in his hand and he didn't let go. When Yuri turned back to the movie, he felt what Otabek was doing. He was  _braiding his hair_.

Then, when Victor laughed, Otabek Altin, one of the strongest men Yuri knew, started  _singing_   _along_. Yuri pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened the camera app and switched the mode. He saw his own face, but more importantly, he saw Otabek, singing softly, but Victor was completely enthralled with it.

At the end of the first chorus, Otabek let the braid fall, and Yuri felt it start to unravel. It was quickly followed by Otabek's fingers again, practically rubbing the braid out. He shook his knee and said, "Go on, Yura. Sing it."

How could he deny the man playing with his hair?

Yuri had been  _eleven_  when this movie came out. He had fucking loved it like most kids his age had. He wasn't much of a singer, but he tried.

" _It's time to see what I can do, to test the limits and break through. No right, no wrong, no rules for me…"_

Yuuri had his fingers in his mouth, but he was smiling behind them.

"…  _I'm free."_

Otabek started singing again, and the actual three word title of the song was easy enough to pick up that Victor was trying to sing, too. Yuri was glad for the end of his solo, and he let the two behind him drown him out until he wasn't singing at all anymore. But that was okay.

Katsudon crawled onto his lap. His hair was just under Yuri's chin, and the blond wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

He was okay.

* * *

Again, the kids didn't fight him at bedtime. Makkachin was already curled up at the foot of it by the time the kids brushed their teeth. Otabek had promised to read them another chapter of whatever he had been reading earlier if they hurried, and they did.

Yuri took a picture of the four of them: two snuggled in bed, one perched on the edge of the bed reading aloud, and Makkachin trying to rest his head on Otabek's lap. It didn't take a full chapter before the kids were out like a light, and when both were sleeping sound enough so the teenager could stand, he left the room. Yuri shut the door quietly behind him.

The sigh Otabek let out was something that came from deep in his bones. His hands went over his head and he stretched, and Yuri's eyes were drawn to his shoulder blades. "Well," the taller teen said. "That's another day where we managed to keep two metalists alive."

"It actually seems harder when they're adults."

Otabek laughed, letting go of his stretch and letting his hands fall back down at his sides, turning around to face the other teenager. Yuri knew what came next. Otabek was helping him take care of the kids. The kids were asleep. There was no point in staying any later.

"Hey, uh…"

"Can I take a shower?" Otabek asked. When Yuri didn't say anything, Otabek added. "So I don't have to do it before they get up in the morning?"

"You're staying?" Yuri asked. He couldn't recognize the sound of his own voice.

"If you'll let me," Otabek shrugged. "It's easier than going back to the apartment and…"

"Yeah," Yuri said. "You can stay. And shower, I guess. Whatever."

Otabek went to his bag, still where he left it. He took some clothes out and disappeared into the bathroom without a further word.

Yuri stood, watching the closed door until he heard the water start. And even then, he stood there longer than he would ever admit to anyone, even under pain of death. When he finally managed to function as a human again, he walked to his own backpack and grabbed his tablet. There hadn't been time in days for him to sit quietly by himself. But there was time now.

He sat on the couch with his back against the arm rest. His knees were drawn up, but not entirely to his chest. The tablet rested on his thighs. He thought about checking Instagram, but there wouldn't be anything he needed to see tonight on there. Their phones had been quiet enough so Yuri didn't feel the need to text anyone back. (Christophe didn't count – it didn't matter how many stupid texts Victor got from him, Yuri refused to respond.)

Instead, Yuri brought up the app he used to read.

He wasn't quite sure how long he had been reading when he saw his friend's movement on the periphery. Looking up, he watched as Otabek squatted next to his messenger bag, probably putting his go-bag and dirty clothes away. He took out a laptop and a huge, expensive looking pair of headphones and sat them on the end table before standing back up.

Otabek wasn't  _fair_.

He looked more like he was heading out to the gym than to go to bed. His sweat pants were too big for him; even with the elastic band they rode low on his hip. His tank top was enough to keep anything worth seeing from showing at his hips, but left his shoulders and arms exposed. And his throat. And part of his chest.

Otabek draped his warm up over the arm rest, must be for when he cooled down from the shower so he wouldn't have to dig for it to put it on, before plopping down just off-center of the couch. Yuri thought it was curious he didn't sit all the way to the other side. He left enough room so he wasn't sitting on Yuri's feet, but he wasn't far away.

His hair was wet but not dripping. When Otabek ran his hand through it, it flopped over to one side. The elder teen leaned forward, opening his laptop and powering it up before he turned to look at Yuri.

"Playing a game?"

Yuri shook his head. "Reading.  _Lord of the Flies_."

Otabek frowned. "For school?"

"Nah. I got my GED before I moved up to the senior division," Yuri said. Otabek was looking at him for a long time, but he didn't say anything. Lamely, Yuri added, "I like to read the books I missed though."

"All of them?"

"I have a list of 100 Books Everyone Should Read Before college. Actually, now that I'm thinking of it, I think  _Fight Club_  is on it," Yuri said, reaching for his phone to pull up his list. When he affirmed it was, he looked back at the other teen, who was  _still looking at him_.

"You want to go to college?"

Yuri shrugged. "If the piggy can do it, I can, too."

"Obviously you  _can_ , Yura," Otabek said. "I asked if you wanted to."

Yuri shrugged again, sinking lower into the couch, looking back at the screen for a second. His feet slid down when his hips did, and when he felt his toes against Otabek's thighs, he pushed forward a little, just enough so he could feel Otabek's weight pressing down into him. The dark-haired teen didn't comment, he  _just kept looking_.

"I don't think I'll go right away or anything. Maybe when I'm your age. That's when people usually go, right? Maybe not even then. I'll be done skating by twenty-five, probably. Lots of people start college late. Do you go?"

Otabek shook his head. "I might want to someday, though. I wouldn't know what to do."

"Yeah," Yuri agreed. "Me either."

The elder teen finally looked away, dragging his laptop onto his lap. So Yuri went back to his book.

Even as everything was going to shit for Ralph, Yuri couldn't help but enjoy his own moment. His feet were warm, he wasn't thinking about skating or winning or wondering what he was doing. They were just sitting there, next to each other, content to just exist next to each other in their own little worlds.

When Yuri finished a chapter, he stretched his back and rested his head against the back of the couch. For a long moment, he watched Otabek. The teen had his headphones on, and for a second Yuri thought he was playing a game. Whatever was on the screen didn't appear to be any real fun, even from the blond's weird angle.

Yuri flexed his toes, smiling when Otabek jumped. He took of his headphones and looked over.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh," Otabek said, turning the computer toward his friend. It looked like a bunch of dials and levers and charts. When Otabek unplugged his headphones, he turned the volume way down on the computer. "Just trying to figure out some mixes."

Yuri was about to ask for clarification when Otabek hit play. A remix of some song that they had been listening to while cooking dinner played, but the underlying beat was different. Otabek was looking at him again, and when Yuri looked up, he asked, " _You_  did that?"

Otabek snorted, "I can do things."

"Well, obviously," Yuri said, sitting upright and putting his tablet on the coffee table. His feet left Otabek and he turned to sit on his knees, leaning forward toward the screen. Otabek smelled like soap, and it was far more interesting than whatever he was looking at. "You told me you DJed, but I hadn't ever heard anything."

"It's a hobby," Otabek shrugged. "But I like to figure out beats and stuff before I actually perform it. It calms me down."

"Like reading," Yuri added.

Otabek smiled at him. "Only you would say  _Lord of the Flies_  is calming."

Yuri leaned his side against the back of the couch again. This time, his knees were pressed against Otabek's thigh, and his face was only a few inches from Otabek's head, and he watched him work. The switches and dials faded the songs in and out, and he could do other things too. Speed up part of the track, slow down another. Sometimes he tried something and it was so wrong that Yuri burst out laughing.

Other times it blended like was always supposed to be together.

It was getting sort of late, Yuri was yawning but Otabek was still going strong, when Yuri practically jumped out of his skin when he felt something touch his back. His instinct was to throw a punch, but instead, he turned around, finding a tearful baby Katsudon looking up at him. The second they made eye contact, the tears started to fall.

Yuri was quick to get off the couch and drag the kid up by the armpits, until he was settled against Yuri's hip. He walked him away from Otabek, bouncing him as well as he could while the kid buried his face in the blond's shoulder. He paced back and forth in the kitchen while the kid sobbed. When he looked, Otabek was motionless, watching them over the back of the couch, looking as helpless as Yuri felt.

He tried rubbing the kid's back with his free hand, but nothing seemed to work.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Yuri asked. "Did Victor do something? I'll beat him up for you if he did."

Yuuri just shook his head. "I miss my family."

"Yeah," Yuri whispered. "I miss mine, too."

"When can I go home? When can I go back?"

"I don't know," Yuri said. "Soon, hopefully."

"But," Yuuri pulled himself back, looking up at the blond. "But if I go back, then I lose my other family."

"What?"

"You," Katsudon whined, putting his cheek against Yuri's shoulder, sniffling. "You and Otabek. If I… If I go back, I won't have you anymore. We won't be friends anymore."

Otabek was still watching and Yuri turned away. "You'll still have me," he murmured. "I've been with you for a while, now."

"Do you promise?" Yuuri asked. "You'll still be my friend, even when I go home?"

"I promise," Yuri said, frowning. He wanted to, he really did. He and Katsudon had always had their moments of friendliness, even if they did seem to enjoy railing on each other more, egging each other on. But he wanted to be Katsuki's friend. He promised to at least try. "But you shouldn't worry about this stuff. You should be sleeping."

"Yuri?" The kid asked. His fingers were at his lips, and his face was still wet from crying. The blond tried his best to wipe the tears away. "Will you come in, too?"

"Sure," he said. When he looked back up, Otabek wasn't looking at them anymore, but his headphones were off. He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, but he walked back to the couch. He looked up at him when they approached, but he still seemed lost. "We're going to go to bed now."

"Okay," Otabek said, reaching up a hand. Katsudon took it, and the taller man leaned forward, kissing the back of the kid's hand. "I hope you feel better, Yuuri."

The kid nodded, pulling back his hand when Otabek dropped it.

"Night, Beka." With his free hand, Yuri reached forward, brushing the messy strands of hair to the other side of Otabek's head. He leaned forward, placing a kiss a bit above his ear, feeling the bristles of his shaved hair over the skin.

As he pulled away and let go of his friend's head, letting the hair flop back down, Otabek caught his forearm. The elder teen looked at him for a long time before squeezing, just slightly. "Night, Yura."

Yuri's arm felt cold when Otabek let go.

When he brought the kid back into his bedroom, and lay down next to him, the bed felt just a bit too empty. There were already four of them curled up on it, if he counted Makkachin, but knowing Otabek was out there, on the couch, instead of in here made it feel like something was missing.

Neither Katsudon nor Yuri fell asleep easily that night.


	4. Day 4

Yuri was tired when he woke up. Even though Victor slept like a baby, the littlest kid had been fitful all night, even though he was sleeping now. Yuri reached for his phone to check the time. Today, at least, he wasn't buried under a layer of kids and pets. He got up easily, without waking up anyone.

He was quiet when he left the bedroom, too. When he didn't see Otabek sitting up, he went over to investigate. Otabek was on his back, and his knees were bent, leaning against the back of the couch. He never did put on his warm up, but he had the throw blanket over one shoulder. His other arm was still exposed to the cool morning air; it was bent at the elbow and his hand was under his head. Everything about the couch was too small for him, but he looked comfortable.

Yuri wanted to kiss him again.

Maybe next time he wouldn't kiss the side of his head. His eyes were drawn to the long stretch of skin of his arm, where his tricep ran down to his underarm. How could he look so strong, even as he slept? Instead of ogling his friend for much longer, Yuri went to his backpack and dug out clothes. He changed in the bathroom, scribbled a note about going to practice and left it on Otabek's laptop, and grabbed his coat before heading out the door.

The rink wasn't far, and even though he had his coat, it was a warm enough morning. He thought back to the week he spent in Hasetsu – the first time, when he came to demand Victor come home, not the visits since – and how Victor made him run to practice.

So Yuri ran.

He was tired from the rough night of sleep, and he was sore from yesterday, from his whole life, but the roads were free of snow and ice, and with each slap of his shoe against the pavement, Yuri forced himself to think about something good. He thought of Potya, curled up in his lap while he read. He thought of Otabek, sleeping on Victor's tiny couch, he thought about the way the grown up Victor looked at Yuuri, and he thought past the disgust to how nice it was, for his friend to be happy.

When he got to the rink he was early, so he ran past it, taking another long block around before finally going inside.

As he stretched, he only thought kindly. It was hard. He watched Georgi on the ice, now insufferable with a new girlfriend, and tried not to think about how annoying it was, but how much happier his rinkmate looked. When he caught Mila smiling while looking at her phone, he pushed away his first thought ( _why's that hag smiling?_ ) but tried to think something nicer for his second though.

When he put on his skates, he stood tall. He knew the blades would make him taller than Otabek, if his friend was in sneakers, but that was okay. He was okay. He unzipped his warm up and put it on the bench. He stood in the cut-out door of the rink and closed his eyes.

 _I'm beautiful_ , he forced himself to think.  _I'll always be beautiful. If I'm a giant, if my chest gets broad, and my arms get huge, I'm still beautiful. Remember to smile._

He sort of felt stupid for thinking it, but when he pushed out on the ice, he did remember to smile.

* * *

When Yakov let him leave, he didn't say anything about it, but that was okay. Lilia hung around long enough for him to leave the ice, for him to walk to the bench next to his warm up and sit down. When he looked up at her, she smiled, reaching a hand down to drag her sharp nails through his sweaty hair, but she didn't say anything either, and that was okay.

Yuri felt the difference.

He could run home. His feet still hurt, they always hurt, and he had caught himself rough on his left wrist when he messed up one of his jumps, but he felt  _good_. He didn't run back, but somewhere, in the back of his mind, it was enough to know that he could.

When he got to the apartment, he let himself in. Everyone was up. The kids had wet hair and new clothes on, but Otabek was still in the sweats he'd slept in. This time they weren't quietly sitting on the couch, but dancing around the kitchen. Makkachin was barking while he chased Victor, who was chasing Yuuri. When Yuri shut the door, all three humans turned to him.

"Just in time for breakfast, Yura," Otabek said.

"Who eats breakfast at  _ten-thirty_. This is brunch. Also, he's lying," Victor said in sing-song. "He's had the dough cut and rolled for like  _half an hour_. He made us wait for you."

"Let the record show that Otabek Altin is a smart man," Yuri said, kicking off his shoes and joining them in the kitchen. He moved to stand next to Otabek, watching as the man tossed a small piece of dough in the oil to see if it was hot enough. When it was, Otabek dumped several of the rectangle shapes into the oil at once. Yuri jumped back when the oil started popping.

Otabek laughed, reaching out an arm and wrapping it around Yuri's waist. The blond felt himself get drawn in, could feel the warm press of the other teen's body against his, could feel Otabek's nose in his hair when he leaned into him. "How was practice?"

"Good," Yuri said, pulling away. "Stop it, I'm sweaty."

"I've seen you sweaty before."

"Seeing and smelling are two different things."

Victor crashed into Yuri, who fell back into Otabek. The kid didn't fall, he just wrapped his arms around the both of them, like he had meant to give a violent hug. He felt Victor's face against his back, and heard the loud inhale, and that was enough of a love fest for Yuri.

"Okay, back up."

"Aw, Yurio," Victor said, fingers gripping his shirt tighter. "Otabek's right. You smell so good."

"He didn't say –" Yuri started, trying to swat Victor off him. Otabek laughed, but let go to flip the frying dough.

"I want to smell," Katsudon said, joining Victor around Yuri's middle. He was shorter, and Yuri  _did_ push the kid away before he buried himself somewhere he shouldn't.

"Seriously, Victor, get off."

"Lift me up," Victor cried. "I bet your hair is even nicer."

"It is," Otabek said, and Yuri groaned.

"You are all the worst," Yuri said, reaching down to scoop up Katsudon. The kid gripped him around the neck with one arm, but put his face on his shoulder.

"You do smell nice."

"I can see why all you losers like it, I guess," he said, practically jumping toward the couch. It was enough to dislodge Victor from around his stomach, and Yuuri laughed. "I smell like a dirty-ass locker room, the weird smell ice rinks have where you can just smell thousands of people's sweat like baked into the ice, and victory."

"And Old Spice," Otabek threw over his shoulder. Yuri rolled his eyes so hard he was surprised he didn't sprain something and threw himself onto his back on the couch. The kid bounced on his stomach, but laughed.

"Aw," Victor said. "You're right, though. That's exactly how the rink smells, and I love it."

"That's because we're all freaks," Yuri said. "I signed out the rink later, too. Yakov's still pretty sure I'm going to try and kill myself with jumps though, but he agreed when I told him you were going, too, Beka."

"Yay," the man deadpanned. "Double practice."

Yuri smiled.

"So we can go skating?" Katsudon asked him, and Yuri nodded.

"You  _do_  smell like sweet, sweet victory," Victor proclaimed, jumping up on the end table.

"Get off of there, you nasty," Yuri swatted at him, but Victor jumped off, jumping up on Yuri's stomach. The blood  _oofed –_  Yuuri was one thing on his precious internal organs, Victor was another – so he sat himself up, knocking the kids off and onto his lap. "I signed out the rink for you. I didn't break any records."

"Who cares about  _records_ , Yurio?" Victor grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to shake the teenager. "We get to  _skate_  tonight."

"I wish I had recorded that," Otabek said. He was suddenly beside them, and he put two plates down on the end table. The kids were quick to abandon Yuri for the food. "It would be my ringtone. Actually, any time Victor talked, I would set it to autoplay. Just over and over. Who cares about records? Victor Nikiforov just wants to skate."

Yuri laughed, but when Otabek walked back to the kitchen, starting the second batch so the two of them could eat, the blond sat at the island and thought about it. It actually made  _more_  sense than whatever Yuri had thought before. Victor wasn't going to win the Grand Prix this year. His artistry was as good as it always was, but he wasn't even attempting the more difficult jumps. Even if he ran it perfectly, his base score was too low to compete with Yuri and Katsudon. He  _might_  be able to pull off a third place, but that was if whatever shit happened last year happened again this year.

There was no fucking way that the sham that JJ called a performance beat Otabek's flawless jumps.

Yuri had wanted to kill the judges. Otabek had always been more forgiving.

But it would make sense, the same way it did for Christophe to skate another year. Victor had missed his friends, had missed making people smile and laugh and feel good, if only for a few minutes. Besides, he was a five time champion. There were plenty of years hadn't been the gold medalist. Yuri was pretty sure gold mattered less to Victor than it did to anyone else.

He had just been trying to motivate Yuuri.

Victor Nikiforov  _did_  just want to skate.

"Here, Yura," Otabek said, sitting down a plate, then joining him at the island.

"What is it called again?" Yuri hadn't realized how hungry he was until he ate the first one and promptly  _demolished_  his plate.

"Baursak," Otabek said. "You like it?"

"Yeah," Yuri said. "It's delicious."

"So practice was good?"

"Yeah," Yuri said, turning back to Otabek. He was eating slower. He didn't seem to have as much butter and honey or whatever made Yuri's so sweet on his own, and without thinking, he reached out, taking one of his, despite still haven a half-eaten one in his other hand. "It's good like that too."

Otabek smiled, "If I knew all I had to do was feed you, I would have tried that when we were still kids."

Yuri elbowed him, but Otabek laughed it off. It was still a sore point for Yuri, that he hadn't remembered Otabek at his novice camp. How couldn't have noticed someone like Otabek Altin?

"You seem…" Otabek started, then cut himself off. Yuri waited him out, and sure enough, Otabek squirmed in his seat. "You look like practice went better today."

"I feel better," Yuri said. "Thanks."

Otabek nodded.

"Has Katsudon…"

"He's been okay," Otabek said. "He seemed miserable when he first woke up, but he sat next to me on the couch. By the time Victor woke up, he was fine."

Yuri nodded, popping the last baursak in his mouth. If he had already been feeing good after the practice, a stomach full of fried dough only made it better.

"I've got to leave in half an hour," Otabek said. "Plenty of time for a shower."

"Yeah, right, if I shower, how will I know I'm loved?" Yuri asked with a grin. The look Otabek gave him looked pained, so the blond put his hand on his friend's bicep,  _his fucking bare bicep_ , he realized after he had touched it. He hopped off the stool, walking over to his backpack to grab his freshly cleaned clothes. "I'm kidding."

"You better be kidding," Otabek frowned, grabbing his plate, getting off the stool and going to sit with the kids on the couch. Yuri made sure to stick his tongue out a the three of them on his way to the bathroom.

Like the food, the warm shower felt like a blessing. He simultaneously wanted to milk every drop of water from the pipes and hurry up, so he could spend time with his friend before he left. He felt the familiar sinking feeling trying to rise, but just as he had done before he'd gone on the ice, Yuri closed his eyes and gave himself a new mantra.  _He'll be back._

When he finally got dressed and left the bathroom, Otabek was pulling his warmup over that ridiculous tank top. He was facing away from the bathroom, toward the kids. He was telling them a story about something he and his sister had done a few months ago, and Yuri grabbed the first aid kit, plopping down next to Katsudon on the couch. He didn't  _wait_  for Otabek to watch him before he started taking care of his blisters, but the taller man saw anyway.

He checked his phone, frowning at it like the time was its fault. "I've got to go to practice now," he said. "It's longer today, though. It might be two before I get back. If you want me to pick up lunch, text me."

Victor started nodding, but Yuri shook his head. "We bought groceries  _yesterday_."

"Oh yeah," Victor said. "But that's okay. You'll be back for lunch?"

"Wild horses," Otabek said, offering a wave. He was out the door before anyone could add anything else to make him late for practice.

It was a few seconds later when Victor turned around to face Yuri. "What does that mean?"

"It's a song by The Rolling Stones," Yuri said. " _Wild horses couldn't drag me away_."

Katsudon frowned, and Victor bounced up to Yuri, sitting next to him on the couch. "I still don't know what that means."

Yuri dabbed some antiseptic on his blister. For a second, he thought about digging at it, getting whatever was  _in_  out, but he knew that probably wasn't the right way to treat a blister, so he just put the clean bandaid on it. "He just means he'll come back," Yuri said. "Nothing could keep him from coming back."

"Aw," Victor said. "He loves you."

"Shut up," Yuri said. "He loves us."

"Damn right, he loves us," Victor said. "Who wouldn't?"

Yuuri crawled into Yuri's lap. The kid felt warm, loving and comfortable in his lap, and Yuri didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him, putting his chin on Katsudon's mess of black hair.

"That's true," Yuri said. "We're adorable."

Victor jumped up, punching his fist in the air. "Can I come to your wedding?"

Yuri laughed, reaching forward and grabbing Victor by the shirt. He pulled the kid toward him, until he was sitting thigh-to-thigh next to him on the couch. The blond put his forehead against the side of Victor's head and said, "Deal. If you invite me to yours."

* * *

The few hours they spent without Otabek seemed to drag.

Yuri spent the first hour or so thinking about how the man hadn't changed to go to practice. His hair had been tamer, sure, but he was still in the same baggy sweats and that same tank top. It occurred to him (really quickly) that Otabek wouldn't likely skate in his warm up. Yuri had half a thought to drag the kids to the rink and hide in the seats so he could watch the gun show.

Mila was probably still around, he thought bitterly. She wouldn't even appreciate it. What cosmic injustice was that? Before he could think twice and second guess himself, he asked her if she was still at the rink before digging through his phone, looking for something to barter with.

**Just about to leave, why?**

Yuri grinned at the picture. It was last year's banquet after the Grand Prix. Despite being pretty trashed, Victor and Katsudon had kept their clothes on. The two of them were slow dancing in the picture ( _shut up, sometimes they were cute_ ) but they were off center. The picture was really of Mila and Sara Crispino. Mila hadn't been drinking, but Yuri remembered that Sara had gotten as wrecked as Yuuri had the year before. She didn't strip and demand successful skaters to be her coach, but just out of Mickey's grasp for the first time ever, she had flirted with everyone.

In the picture, Sara was leaning forward, her face close with Mila. Her hand was touching Mila's bare arm, and they were both laughing. It was the dress, Yuri figured, that would clinch his barter. Sara's black dress had an open back, which he totally got from this angle, and the strap was starting to slip off her shoulder.

**take a picture of Otabek skating and send it to me ill trade you**

Yuri knew Mila could laugh at him, screech across the ice to show Otabek the text, but a few seconds later, he knew he had her when she said,  **trade what?**

The blond grinned, and sent the picture with the adjoining message:  **make it a good one**

For several long minutes, Yuri waited. Maybe he should have waited to give the picture until he had received his own. Probably Mila was calling Otabek over, showing him how pathetic Yuri was to try and tempt Mila with a picture of Sara for one of his own. Finally, after a lifetime, his phone buzzed.

It  _was_  a good one.

He must have just landed a jump. His arms were out and he was on one foot. Much like Yuri anticipated, he had ditched the warmup, and those glorious arms were on display for all those assholes who wouldn't appreciate it. Even better, he hadn't tucked his shirt in and it was riding up with the motion. Yuri could just see the curve of his back, arched with the landing and the front of his stomach. Christ. He clicked on the picture, trying to zoom in. He deserved to see Otabek's abs.

Yuri was quick to save the picture. If it wasn't gotten by ill gains, he would have made it his lock screen picture.

A new message appeared:  **Fair trade?**

 **more than fair** , Yuri typed. He paused for a second before adding,  **thank you**

The blond figured that would be the end of their conversation. The deal was done, and what more could be said? He was surprised when he felt his phone buzz again.

**He's a trooper. I used to think Lilia was mean to you, but it's nothing compared to the trash they're throwing at him.**

Yuri frowned. He knew Yakov hung around during Otabek's training, acting like a surrogate coach until the Rostelecom cup, but he also remembered how Yakov had treated Yuuri the previous season. And Lilia… she wasn't there for anyone else. Lilia  _only_  coached Yuri.

**Lilia is coaching him too?**

The reply came quickly,  **Yeah, they both are. He's a lost cause with her. I can't believe she's even here.**

**dont be a dick Otabek is a good skater**

**I know** , Mila replied.  **But he isn't you. He's never going to push into your Beillman or spirals, so I don't know why she keeps making him try.**

**Show me!**

The next picture came free of charge, Yuri was sure, but he was shaking when he saw the picture. It wasn't really a beillman, not like Yuri could do. But Otabek's knee was bent, he was holding his skate, and he was  _trying_. His skate wasn't over his head by a long shot – it only came up to about his shoulders – but it was pretty, Yuri noted, in its own right. He remembered Lilia telling him once that without beauty, strength meant nothing. It didn't look effortless by any means, but it sure as shit was beautiful.

**why would they be coaching him? isnt he competition?**

Mila sent back an emoji, the one with a winking face and a tongue sticking out, and said,  **I think they're coaching him for the same reason they coach you: he's paying them to.**

**for the two weeks?**

The last message from Mila followed quickly.  **I thought he was our rinkmate now?**

Yuri was floored. People didn't change coaches in the middle of a season, did they? Just a month before the Grand Prix finals?  _Days_ before the Rostelecom Cup? Yuri was sure Mila misunderstood. Otabek would have told him, right?

Thoughts of Otabek's three hour practice and the Rostelecom cup, just a week away now, brought up his old ways of thinking, though, but try as he might, he couldn't smash them back down.

If the kids didn't grow up in the next week, Victor would have to drop out of the cup. That meant he couldn't qualify for the Grand Prix. This whole season, his whole return, would be for nothing. Because even though Victor just wanted to skate with his friends one last time, that wasn't possible like this.

But how was Yuri supposed to help them grow up? Did he have to wish on another meteor shower? Absently, he thumbed through his phone while the kids watched Frozen  _again_ , trying to look up when the next one would be. He nearly threw his phone when he saw it wasn't going to happen for  _years_ , but instead, he just clenched the phone in his hand and leaned back against the chair.

He looked up everything he could about breaking spells, mythology, age regression, but it was all gibberish and likely fake. It wasn't like this sort of thing happened often, right? So obviously there wasn't a blog about two adults who miraculously turned into children and the five easy steps it would take to change them back.

It was close to two when his stomach started growling. He decided to make goulash because it would take at least half an hour, but not all day. The kids were drawing and Makkachin was napping close by. By the time it was done, it was just past two, but he hadn't gotten a text from Otabek yet.

He thought about sending one, but couldn't figure out what to say.  _Hey are you on your way back yet and are we rinkmates? Are you staying?_

They had just talked about it yesterday. Why couldn't Yuri remember what Otabek said when Victor asked him? He was invited to train until Rostelecom. By Victor, right? Victor made Yakov let Otabek skate.

His phone buzzed on the counter, and Yuri picked it up. It was from Otabek:  **Leaving now. Do you want me to pick anything up?**

Somehow, his elation from seeing the pictures earlier weren't in the forefront of his mind anymore. He felt confused, like the acid feeling of betrayal was starting to form deep in his gut. But he pushed it down, pushed it away.

**nah goulash is on**

Otabek had never been particularly forthcoming about himself, but he never lied to Yuri. He never hid something important before. Despite his growing anger, Yuri fought against it. He and Victor had been lucky with Yakov. Yuri had never known another coach, really. He remembered Katsudon telling him how hard it was for him to leave Celestino. Otabek had been bouncing around, searching for something for years, but that didn't necessarily mean that leaving some place and starting over was easy.

Suddenly, I thought came to him:  _This has nothing to do with you_.

It was followed by a second:  _He'll tell you when he's ready_.

And a third, in Katsudon's childish voice:  _We're family._

By the time Otabek walked in, Yuri had calmed himself down. It didn't matter. It wouldn't change anything between them. Katsudon was right. When the kids ran to Otabek, like he was their father getting home from work, Yuri felt the same stirrings of emotion that he had when he watched Otabek skate with Yuuri, from the pictures Mila had sent him, from the way the man pulled him to his side and kissed his head.

"Beka," Victor cried, wrapping his arms around his stomach, putting his face into his side and breathing in. "You smell like sweaty rink, too."

Otabek dropped his bag, taking a step, but Victor wouldn't let go. He settled a hand on the top of the kid's head for a second, before lifting up Katsudon, kissing the top of his head. Yuuri's fingers fisted into Otabek's shirt. The taller teen looked up, though, past the kids to the kitchen. "But not victory?" he joked.

Yuri smiled but turned back to the food.

Victor started to apologize, gushing about of course he smelled like victory, but Otabek just dragged him to the kitchen. Yuri felt him just behind him, felt him wrap the arm that wasn't carrying the kid around his chest, felt himself getting pulled back until he felt his shoulder blades against Otabek's chest. He felt Otabek's face in his hair, and he felt like he was on fire.

"You're getting all of us sweaty," Yuri said, but his voice didn't have the venom he was going for. When Otabek chuckled, Yuri felt the vibrations in his back. And when he pulled back and let his arm fall from Yuri's chest, he felt like turning around and burrowing his face in the elder teen's shoulder and never letting him leave again.

"Do I have time before lunch to clean up?"

"You better," Yuri said, but his voice sounded far away.

Otabek sat down the kid and shook Victor off, grabbing his go-bag from the messenger bag and going to the bathroom. The sink started running, but not the shower. When he came back out his hair was wet, his clothes were different, and he was limping on bare feet, his sweat pants rolled up just past his ankles.

"Are you –"

"Yeah," Otabek said. It wasn't a  _bad_  limp, but he was definitely babying one side. He sat down heavily on the couch, pulling the first aid kit Yuri had left on the coffee table toward him.

The blond had no idea what to do. He had always crawled home and licked his own wounds in private, and he was sure everyone else did the same. Well, maybe not adult Katsudon, because that seemed like a thing he would  _like_  to do, but there was no way Victor would let Yuuri dress his own wounds in silence, like hard work was a shameful thing, that he needed to hide something so intimate from his coach.

Boyfriend. Fiancé?

In the end, without thinking too much about it, he walked to the couch. He made enough noise so Otabek could hear him coming, could hide or push him away if he wanted to, but the Kazakh skater said nothing. Yuri reached out his hands over the back of the couch and put them on Otabek's shoulders. He wanted to pull him back against the couch, to hug him, but he just squeezed.

"How was practice?"

"Long," Otabek admitted, leaning back against the couch. He tilted his chin up, looking upside down at Yuri. "Your coaches are…" Yuri could see him searching for a non-offensive term and smiled.

"Assholes?"

Otabek let out a laugh. "Yeah, but they're good."

"Yeah, I like them," he found himself admitting. Emboldened by the look on Otabek's face, he leaned forward, letting his palms rest on his friend's chest, just over his clavicles. Otabek held his gaze, but something looked distinctly different about his eyes. "I'm surprised you would even want them around. You hated that novice camp, didn't you?"

Otabek's hand came up, resting over one of Yuri's on his chest. "I'm not a ballerina. I'm not a good dancer. But that's what's missing. I can land jumps all day, but if it isn't pretty…"

"Fuck JJ," Yuri found himself saying, his fingers clenching into Otabek's shirt.

Surprisingly, the felt Otabek laugh. The taller teen patted Yuri's hand, soothing  _him_ , and Yuri wanted to punch him in the chest and kiss him at the same time.

"Give me a few minutes, Yura?"

Instead, Yuri tightened his fingers in the material. "You're  _beautiful_."

Otabek's face turned pink, and he sat up, trying to turn to face the blond. Yuri dropped his shirt, letting him move, and he knew he was red, too.

Yuri found he couldn't stop, though. "They're jealous of you. Fuck them all if they don't think you're beautiful. Because they're  _wrong_ , Beka."

Still red, Otabek was at least smiling now. "I meant, give me a few minutes to finish with the first aid kit… before lunch. But… thank you."

Mortified, Yuri practically ran back to the kitchen. Otabek didn't follow, which was a mercy, and Yuri wished he could jump out of the window or that a fire would suddenly burn the apartment down with Yuri inside. Worse, when he started getting bowls for the food, the kids were there.

Katsudon whispered, "Those are  _bad_  words, Yuri."

Victor gave him a thumbs up, then made the shape of a heart in the air with his fingers.

A few minutes later, when Otabek came back into the kitchen, Yuri noticed his pants had been rolled down and he had socks on. He was silent as he scooped the goulash into bowls, and Otabek didn't lean in to him, didn't touch him like he had before.

But he did murmur, "Is there anything you want me to do?"

 _I want you to hug me,_  Yuri thought.  _I want you to kiss me. I want you to stay with me_. But instead, he handed over a bowl. "Enjoy."

Otabek nodded, like it was a demand.

* * *

Yuri shouldn't have signed out the rink, shouldn't have told Victor they would go skating. Otabek had commented  _twice_  after lunch about how at least it was Friday and they didn't have to go to practice tomorrow, and when he went to the kitchen to do the dishes, he looked stiff, like it wasn't his feet, but his legs that were bothering him.

Yuri wanted to make him sit down and stretch out. He had no ulterior motives about wanting to help Otabek by pushing his leg further over his head or pushing his hips down into a better stretch. Obviously. He was just really concerned.

On their way to the rink, they walked slower than usual, but that was because Katsudon was holding on to Otabek's hand. Yuri had insisted the kid walked, because Victor was trying to run ahead. Victor didn't complain about the rentals. When they were in the locker room, Otabek went to his locker and got out his skates.

"You're going to skate, again?" Yuri asked. Otabek just looked at him. "You need to rest, Otabek. You're going to hurt yourself."

"I think doing a few laps around the rink is different from the three hours of torture your coaches put me through this morning, Yura."

"Don't  _Yura_  me," he said, grabbing for Otabek's skates. The taller boy flinched, surprised, but then smiled, holding out an arm to block Yuri and the skates out behind him. "You need to take care of yourself."

"You're worried about me?" Otabek said, a stupid grin on his face.

Yuri tried to leap forward, but now that Otabek knew what he was trying to do, he was quick to dodge him. "I don't want you getting hurt and having some loser take advantage of that. You  _need_  to qualify for the GPF."

"Tell me you're worried about me and I'll put the skates away," Otabek said.

Yuri frowned. Otabek's eyebrows were raised, but he didn't say anything. He let his skates fall to his side, then lowered the arm keeping Yuri away from him, but the blond reached out, gripping at Otabek's jacket. "Of course I'm worried about you. It's not that I don't think you can do it, but if you're sore, you need to take it easy. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Otabek paused, but then he moved his skates forward, offering them to Yuri.

"That's not what I want, either," Yuri said, moving his free hand to his friend's are, lightly squeezing the muscle under the fabric. "You know yourself. You know how hard you'll skate with the kids. Who knows how long it'll be before they grow up."

"You're not making this easy," Otabek admitted.

"I know," Yuri frowned. "I just want you to be careful."

"I will," Otabek said, stepping forward. Yuri pulled him the rest of the way in with the hand on his bicep, putting his forehead against Otabek's shoulder.

Victor came bouncing in with his and Yuuri's skates in his hand. He sat them on the bench and then sat down, too. "Okay, let's get going."

"Not yet," Yuri said, moving away from Otabek. "You have to stretch first."

Victor groaned, but agreed. When Yuri sat down and started stretching his legs, he was surprised to see the other three sit down and do it, too. So he pushed. With a grin on his face, he moved to a split, practically lying down. Victor came close. Otabek looked grim, and Yuri could tell that he was torn between taking it easy and pushing himself. In the end, Yuri knew he could feel the stretch by the look on his face, but he was pleased to see that Otabek didn't try to over do it.

It was the same when they finally got their skates on and pushed out onto the ice. The taller teen stuck with the smallest kid, content to just skate along side him holding his hand while Victor and Yuri flew across the ice. It wasn't long, though, before Victor grew bored of Yuri. The child reached into his pocket, looking over a piece of paper, and Yuri moved over to the other two, skating slowly backwards while Otabek taught Yuuri how to skate on his edges. The kid was going from the inside to the outside, and the blond couldn't help but smile.

"If you want to retire," Yuri joked. "You can be my coach."

"I wouldn't even know how to coach you," Otabek said, grin on his face. "You're a great friend, but you're temperamental at best."

"Well, you're too buff, so I couldn't coach you, either. Your chest would just be too distracting."

Otabek smiled, and Yuri wanted to smack himself.

"Okay," Katsudon said. "How how do I do a spin?"

Yuri demonstrated an upright spin, putting as much speed into it as he could. Needless to say, the twin annoyed looks he got from the other two proved he would never make a good coach. That was okay, though. Yuri knew Otabek was right. It was hard enough for him to  _be_  coached, he definitely lacked the patience to be a coach.

Otabek stood with his feet flat on the ice and held his arms out to his sides. Using just the momentum he could get by swinging his arms around, he pulled his arms to his chest, spinning slowly. Yuri couldn't remember not being able to spin. Was that how he learned, too?

Katsudon mimicked the movement, but when he wobbled, Otabek was there to put a hand on his back and stabilize him. After practicing a few more times, the kid was able to stay upright and spin in a slow circle twice. Yuri was the one who taught him to stop the spin and end it with a flair of his arms.

When Yuuri took off skating again, Otabek let him go. He seemed much easier on the ice than the last time, and while he certainly wasn't quicker about it, he was more confident. Giving him some space, Otabek started skating again, reaching out his hand to grab Yuri's arm on the way. He didn't have to drag the blond to get him to skate with him. Nor did he have to let his hand trail down his forearm, lacing their fingers together. But Yuri wasn't going to argue with it.

They were quick to catch up with Katsudon. Otabek lifted their arms, and the kid laughed when they passed over him. "You good?"

Yuuri offered back a thumbs up so they kept skating.

Despite how Yuri's hands always got cold when he was on the ice, Otabek's felt warm in his palm. He wondered, absently, if the other man was thinking the same about him, or well, the opposite. Maybe Otabek regretted holding his hand because the blond was always freezing. Yuri thought about pulling his hand away, to spare Otabek having to do it, but before he could, the other teen tugged on his hand.

"What's he doing?"

Yuri looked over at Victor. He was skating around in the middle of the rink, but not aimlessly like the others were. It was the same deliberate pattern that he had followed since Yuri started training with Yakov. "He's creating a program."

"Seriously?"

"The paper must have his jumps and steps written on it. He's figuring out how to get from A-to-B." For a long moment, Yuri watched Otabek watch Victor. The man had always created masterful programs, even Yuri could admit to that. The Kazakh skater had never gotten to witness it before. It was impressive with the adult, but somehow, knowing that Victor had choreographed his own programs at six was even more awe-inspiring.

Across the rink, Katsudon stopped and practiced his spins again.

"I'm going to miss them," Otabek said. "When they grow up, I mean. I know they're our friends, but… you know. It won't be the same."

"Yeah," Yuri agreed. "Instead of crying to me because they're scared at night, they'll be making me cry with how gross and lovey-dovey they are."

Otabek shrugged. "They're engaged. They're just in love."

"It's annoying," Yuri frowned, gripping Otabek's hand tighter. "And disgusting."

"I think it's kind of cute," Otabek admitted, and Yuri looked at him. The taller teen looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his face pink, but before Yuri could say anything, Victor was announcing that he was ready for his performance, shooing them off the ice.

Otabek sat next to Yuuri on the barrier between the ice and the floor, but Yuri stood them, next to the speaker. "Okay, what's the song?"

"Duh," Victor called from the edge of the ice. He took his position: one hand on the barrier, the other reaching out toward the other side of the rink. " _How Far I'll Go._ "

Otabek snorted, but Yuri just grinned. He knew exactly what he was going to do after. He searched for it on his phone and plugged it into speaker before hitting play.

As Victor skated, Yuri French-braided his own hair, using the hair tie on his wrist to hold it back. His hair was too short, so it was messy and strands of hair slipped out, but he got  _most_  of it up. It was enough for what he wanted to do.

The fact that Victor could have heard the song a handful of times, created a program, and skate it as flawlessly as a six year old could over the course of a day was something even adult Victor Nikiforov didn't do. Yuri remembered the  _something like that_  that Victor had said after showing him the Agape program. Victor used the left wall to be the ocean. He was constantly skating or jumping toward it, to pull back, only to return again.

It was really pretty good.

When he left the ice, he was red-faced and sweaty. His stamina wasn't what it was as an adult, and even then, none of them were like Katsudon. He was a machine.

"It was very good, Victor," Otabek said, resting a hand in his hair. The kid beamed.

Yuri stepped onto the ice, going to his phone to pick the song. "Okay," he said. "When I get out there, hit play."

Otabek nodded, scootching down the wall. As Yuri skated to center ice, he heard Otabek snort again.

Yuri took up position and said, "Hey, this was my favorite movie when I was a kid."

The blond expected the elder teen to shout back  _You're still a kid_ , so when Otabek responded, "You're so cute, Yura," before hitting play, the blond felt his breath catch in his throat.

To be fair, it wasn't really  _his_  routine for  _Let It Go_ , but it wasn't the same as the exhibition skate he had seen thirteen thousand times either. He had more jumps – to be fair he was younger and jumps came easier to him – but it was the same basic layout. As Elsa sang, he mimicked her movements. He added more spins, but when the final chord struck and he took his ending pose, he looked back at his friends and the kids were clapping. Otabek's smile was  _stupid_  and when Yuri skated up to them, Otabek hugged him.

Yuri's brain short circuited because he was  _between Otabek's legs_.

"Was that Gracie Gold's exhibition, wasn't it?" Otabek murmured. From this close, Yuri could feel Otabek's words vibrating into his chest. "From like, three years ago, but with quads added in?"

"And more spins," Yuri added to Otabek's collarbone.

"I wish I'd filmed it," Otabek said. "I'd put it on the internet and nobody would ever fight me on Yuri Plisetsky being an actual Disney princess ever again."

"Excuse you," Yuri said, pulling back, reaching behind his head to pull the tie from the hair. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking out the braid. "I'm a Disney Queen."

"Of course, Your Grace," Otabek said. "Forgive me."

"Beka?" Victor asked. "Do you want to skate anything?"

Otabek looked down at him, but shook his head. "I could probably show you a handful of things I've been working on, but… It was a rough practice today. I shouldn't do anymore jumps."

Yuri expected Victor to fight him, but instead, the kid just nodded. Even at his age, he had probably been run dry on the ice by his coaches before, and Yuri had never been more thankful.

"What about you, Yuuri?" Victor asked. "Do you want us to put on a song and you show us what you worked on?"

"Um…" the kid said, looking over at the elder two. Yuri smiled and Otabek gave a thumbs up. So Yuuri said, "Uh, sure…"

Yuri helped him down from his sitting position, back onto the ice. Katsudon didn't have a song preference, and being the dick he was, Yuri played the  _Yuri On Ice_  song that had the World Record. He had wanted it to be embarrassing, but watching the kid skate around the ice to the song that was the single best free performance in men's skating (as far as points were concerned... it wasn't just Yuri's opinion) to a bunch of baby spins and gliding from edge-to-edges was actually so adorable, Yuri wanted to punch himself in the face to keep from crying.

All three of them made sure to cheer the kid's improvement. Katsudon cried. Yuri wanted to scoop him up in his arms, but he was too afraid to do it on the ice, so instead, he dropped to his knees in the middle of the rink, pulling the kid into him.

"You were  _so_ good," Yuri heard himself saying, rubbing the kid's back while he cried into his shoulder.

"Hey, Yuuri," Victor said. "Wanna skate with me?"

After a few more seconds of crying, the littlest boy took Victor's hand, letting the older kid lead him off to skate slow laps around the rink. When Yuri stood back up, he turned to the stereo. Otabek had put it on a pop station on Pandora (or maybe it was Today's Hits again), but he was already skating back toward him.

Otabek took both his hands in his when they met at center ice. "You're so good with them."

"Shut up."

"I mean it, Yura," Otabek said, squeezing his hands. "I think you'd make a better coach than you think you would."

For the rest of the hour, Yuri thought over Otabek's words as the pair of them skated around the rink, keeping an eye on the kids. To be fair, though, they seemed to be as off in their own little world as Yuri felt with Otabek.

When their scheduled time was up, Victor looked exhausted. He didn't fight Yuri when he told him to go take his skates off. Otabek didn't either, practically racing Victor to the sides. Yuri did have to chase Katsudon off, but that was almost normal. That guy could go balls-to-the-wall intense with his practices for hours on end. Yuri's one saving grace when the pair were adults was that Yuuri always managed to wear Victor out.

Yuri even felt a swell of pride when he finally led Katsudon into the locker room and saw that Victor and Otabek both had their skates off, and the taller teen was leading the younger kid in stretches, making sure he cooled down so he wouldn't be sore. When Otabek stood back up, Yuri was looking down at him. He still had his skates on. He was taller than Otabek.

"Wanna help Yuuri get his skates off?" Otabek asked, and Victor nodded, making quick work of untying and pulling the skates off. Yuri flashed back to the first time Victor kissed Yuuri's skates. When they were off, Victor jumped up, holding his skates in one hand and Katsudon's in the other.

"Can we bring them back?"

"Sure," Yuri said, watching the kids scurry out the locker room door, before turning back to Otabek. He tried to force a smile, but it felt more like a scowl on his face. "Someday this might be what we're like, you know?"

"Huh?" Otabek asked.

"Me taller than you," Yuri said. He wanted to sit down. He wanted to rip his skates off; if he took his feet off with the blades, that would be okay. He just wanted to be smaller. "Last time I went to the doctor, they said I'm probably going to grow a lot more. I might be taller than Victor. My grandpa is tall."

"Oh," Otabek frowned, his head tilted to the side, like he didn't understand something. "So what?"

"You don't care if I'm taller than you?"

Otabek's frown seemed to be even deeper. Yuri studied his eyebrows, the confused look on his friend's face. "Why would I care if you're taller than me?"

Yuri had no idea what possessed him, but his hands were suddenly on either side of Otabek's face. There was too much force between them, and when Yuri dragged Otabek in, he pushed too hard against his mouth. It  _hurt_ , and Yuri was quick to pull back. His hands left Otabek's face, one moving to his own mouth, touching his own lips.

 _Fuck_ , Yuri though.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck._  He wished he'd taken off his skates so he could have ran away. He would  _haul ass_  away from this. He hadn't meant to  _kiss_  his friend, nonetheless on the lips, not while an inch taller than him with his skates on, and Yuri took a step back, ready to retreat before Otabek grabbed him behind the neck and dragged him back down.

Otabek's kiss was so gentle, but it still seemed to hurt.

This time, Yuri's eyes were shut tight, but he could still feel the tears welling behind his eyes. His friend had his fingers digging into the back of the neck, the other hand was clenching his hip, and it grounded the blond. He still wanted to pull away, pull back, wanted to scream to Otabek to  _leave him the fuck alone_ , but he didn't.

He waited a few seconds for Otabek to pull back, before opening his eyes.

Miraculously, the tears didn't fall. That didn't mean that Otabek didn't see them in there, but at least there wasn't obvious proof.

Otabek looked up at him, and if anything, his fingers at Yuri's hips and neck tightened. "You know I don't give a shit if you never grow another inch or if you're taller than me, right? Why the fuck would I care about that?"

Yuri tried to pull back, but Otabek  _wouldn't let him go_.

"Yura," he said, his voice hard. "I don't care if you're ten to my thirteen and kicking my ass in ballet. I don't care if you're fifteen to my eighteen and kicking my ass at the Grand Prix. I don't care if you're eighteen to my twenty-one and you're six-foot-four and  _jacked_. Do you really think I would care about that?"

"No," Yuri lied.

"You're my best friend," Otabek said, dragging him back down, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. "Yura, it's  _you_."

The sound that escaped Yuri was too much like a whine for his own liking, but he did rest his forehead against Otabek's, not fighting the elder teen when he placed them together. He hadn't realized his own fingers had been clutching at Otabek's shirt until they started to lose feeling. As he forced himself to let up, and the blood started flowing back to his fingers, they  _hurt_ , but everything seemed to be aching on Yuri right now. And he didn't know what to do, what to say.

So instead, he pulled back. This time, Otabek let him go. So Yuri sat down on the bench, fingers shaking again as he tried to untie his skates.

"Yuri?" Otabek asked, kneeling down in front of him. Otabek's hands made quick work of Yuri's skates, but the blond  _couldn't breathe_.

"Please," he said. "I need a second."

"I know," Otabek said, and fell silent. He pulled one skate off, then the other, not asking any more of his friend. Yuri couldn't seem to catch his breath, even as he sat idle, letting his friend help him with something he'd been doing alone for most of his life. Instead he sat forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. When he felt his other skate pull free, he felt his friend's hand on his ankle, just giving it enough pressure to know that he was still there. "Do you want me to go check on them?"

"I…" Yuri started, knowing that he meant to  _leave to give him space_  but not  _leave for good_. Before he could answer, he was interrupted by the kids bounding back into the locker room. Victor slowed, like he knew something happened, but he was quick to recover. He jumped on Otabek's back, wrapping his arms around the taller teen's neck.

"I'm too tired, Beka. I need you to carry me."

"I don't even have my shoes on," Otabek said.

When Yuri looked up, Katsudon was at his side, fingers in his mouth and his tiny fist gripping the hem of Yuri's shirt. Otabek was still looking at him, soft and open and  _scared_ , and Yuri wanted to die, knowing he was the one who put that look on his friend's face. Even though his hand was shaking, he patted the side of Otabek's face, hoping that was enough for right now.

They were silent while Otabek and Yuri put on their shoes, but the kids must have been telling the truth about being tired, because on their way home, Victor did demand a ride on Otabek's back. He was out in seconds, drooling against the taller man's leather jacket. Yuuri didn't fare much better. Yuri had been carrying him at his side, but the kid fell asleep with his head against Yuri's shoulder.

When they got back to the apartment, Yuri led them to the bedroom, lying Katsudon on one side. It was harder for Otabek to flop Victor off his back, but he still managed to get him down without waking the kid up. When they left the bedroom, Yuri expected the conversation (or kissing) to resume, but as Otabek shut the door quietly, the only thing he asked was, "Do you want me to make dinner?"

"You made breakfast."

"But you made lunch."

Yuri frowned, "Then I guess we have to make it together."

At the very fucking least, Otabek smiled.

They decided to make homemade pizza. Otabek made the dough, and Yuri added the sauce and cheese. Maybe, Yuri thought, they were as exhausted as the kids were. Despite the fact they were alone, they weren't overly conversational, but it wasn't awkward. For kissing the man an hour or so ago, Yuri didn't feel as anxious as he had, once Otabek sat back down at his computer and Yuri opened up  _Lord of the Flies_.

If anything, when Yuri grew bored of digging his toes under Otabek's thighs, he realized he was welcome to sit up next to his friend, and put his shoulder against Otabek's, leaning himself into the older teen while he read. If Otabek's laptop hadn't been in his lap, the blond would have tried to crawl into in, to see if that was allowed that, too.

The kids woke up by the time dinner was done. Yuri loaded up Netflix, but the kids weren't interested. They were talking back and forth about different games they liked to play. Katsudon was talking about some marble game, but he didn't have the right words in English for how to play except "flat marbles." Most of the games Victor talked about were playground games that Yuuri knew, too, once Victor managed to get past the names to describe the activity.

Yuri was content to listen to them, eating his pizza.

But then Otabek started chiming in, talking about the variations they had in Kazakhstan. By the time the blond gathered up all of the plates to wash them, the three others were fighting about stupid rule variations. Or well, Victor was fighting. Otabek was laughing.

Katsudon had his fingers in his mouth, but when Yuri started walking back, he said, "Mari just taught me how to play Go Fish."

"We can play that if you want," Otabek said, reaching over to the side of the end table, pulling his bag closer. He had to dig for a second, but he pulled out a deck of cards from the bottom of his bag. "I used to kick JJ's ass at Go Fish."

"JJ?" Yuri asked, plopping back down next to his friend, closing the laptop, and shooing the kids to the other side of the coffee table. "Go Fish? Which part of that is the weirdest to me?"

"Well, we had to travel together a lot when we shared a coach, so we would get bored," Otabek shrugged. "And he didn't know how to play anything but Go Fish, War, and Cheat, but he's a terrible liar so he always refused to play it."

"Were you, like, Victor's age?" Yuri grinned, knowing that couldn't be the case.

Otabek frowned at him, "It was like, two years ago, Yura."

The taller teen shuffled the deck, passing out seven cards a piece, then spreading out the rest in the center of the table. Yuri picked up his cards, giving a triumphant cry when he had a pair of threes, and slammed them down on the table.

"No fair," Victor whined. "You like him better."

"Shut up," Yuri said. "He  _shuffled_  them."

"Go ahead, Victor. Ask someone for something," Otabek said, organizing his cards in his hand. Yuri was tempted to lean back and look, but he figured his friend  _was_  the type to put them in numerical order.

They played at least seven thousand games of Go Fish before Yuri was going out of his mind with boredom. Victor wanted to learn Cheat, but it was too hard to teach both of the kids at once. So for the first game, Katsudon sat on Yuri's lap, burying his face in the blond's chest every time he lied because he kept smiling and giggling.

Otabek, the others learned, was a fantastic lair. Yuri could almost feel pity for JJ.  _Almost_.

The taller teen was shuffling for the second game when his phone started ringing. Yuri frowned, recognizing the FaceTime sound. Otabek pushed the cards at Yuri, who leaned forward, shuffling into a bridge, just to hear the kids tell him how cool he was. He was still listening to Otabek, who answered the phone in a different language, which Yuri assumed was Kazakh.

It was a  _girl_  on the other line. Yuri found himself growing angry before he frowned. She sounded young, like a little kid. The blond split the deck, putting half down in front of each boy. They were quick to start a game of War, and Yuri tried to lean back like he was just trying to get comfortable and not look at who was being displayed.

The girl asked something, and Otabek turned and looked at Yuri and the kids. He nodded, holding the phone farther away, reaching out an arm, wrapping it over Yuri's shoulder and pulled him closer, into the frame.

"Mira, this is Yuri."

The girl only looked like Otabek in her hair and eyes, both were dark, and Yuri could see she was missing her two front teeth as she grinned at the phone, pulling it closer to her face, looking him over. "Oh," she grinned. "So  _that's_  Yuri."

In their small reflection, Yuri could see Otabek's face growing red, and the taller man started making some excuse, but the blond was quick to jump in. "And you must be Princess Elmira."

Mira gave an almighty screech, and the picture jumped around as she shook her phone. "I will  _kill_  you for telling him that, Beka."

At least Otabek was laughing, sort of. It was a nervous sort of chuckle, and at first, Yuri couldn't figure out why his friend would be anxious, but he quickly found out, when a few seconds later, Mira recovered. Otabek started asking her about school, but she cut him off, saying, "You're right, Beka. Yuri  _is_  really pretty."

Otabek practically jumped off the couch, yelling spit-fire Kazakh back at his sister, while she laughed. Yuri found himself smiling, even though he felt his own face as warm as Otabek's  _looked_ , watching the teenager walked into Victor's bedroom and shut the door.

Yuri leaned back against the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table, away from the kid's game. They both threw down sixes, and it was almost synchronized, watching them put two cards down and the third one face-up. Katsudon won and he grinned as he dragged his and Victor's cards back to his pile.

"So," Victor said, still looking down at his cards. "Otabek told his sister he thought you were pretty sometime when it was just the two of them talking about you."

"Yeah, I heard," Yuri grinned, shooting out a foot to kick at Victor's shoulder, gently. The kid just looked up, looking like a cat that got the canary, like somehow  _he_  had orchestrated it. Yuri laughed, kicking at Victor again. The kid got up, laughing, tackling Yuri against the side of the couch.

Katsudon frowned at the loss of the game, but he got up, walking over to the other two. Together, they were heavy, but at least little Yuuri wasn't trying to fight either of them. "I don't get it."

"Otabek thinks Yuri's cute," Victor hissed, sitting up and looking back toward the closed door to make sure the other teen couldn't hear.

"But Yuri  _is_  pretty," Katsudon said, still sounding confused, like it wasn't a debate, and Yuri shoved Victor off of him. The kid hit the cushions by Yuri's feet with a  _oof_ , and the blond grabbed the littlest kid, dragging him on top of him, hugging him to his chest.

"This is why you're my favorite person ever."

"Aw, c'mon," Victor whined.

"I'm just kidding, Vitya," Yuri said, sitting up, grabbing Victor by the front of his shirt, dragging the three of them back down together. "I love you, too."

The words slipped out, almost as a joke, but while the kids settled on top of him, giggling and laughing but not fighting to get away, Yuri couldn't help but notice that it was  _true_. He did love them. It was like grandpa, like Potya, like Lilia.

It wasn't like  _Otabek_ , but it was still nice.

"So, I think now you need to tell him you think he's handsome," Victor was saying. The kid pushed up on his bony elbows to look down at the other two. One was on the couch cushion, but the other was on Yuri's ribs. "That's how this works."

"Oh yeah," Yuri asked. "Then what?"

Little Katsudon sat up, too, looking at Victor before looking back at Yuri. He whispered, "Then you have to  _kiss_  him."

Yuri barked out a laugh, but Victor was nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah," Yuri said. "Okay, now you two should get back to your game. It will be bedtime before too long, and you don't want to waste the night on me."

The kids didn't fight him, but when they sat back down and Yuri put his feet back up on the end table, he couldn't exactly wipe the smile from his face.

* * *

Otabek came out of Victor's room about an hour later. Yuri didn't say anything as the elder teen sat down next to him, and even though Otabek's face was a little pink, he knew his friend appreciated his silence. Yuri also couldn't believe that this game of War was still going on, but both of the kids were clearly growing bored of it. Victor looked up at Otabek when he sat down, and the blond almost expected him to say something, but the dark-haired teen beat him to it.

"Come here," Otabek said. "I wanted to show you two something."

Victor jumped up, settling himself at Otabek's other side in seconds. Katsudon went to Yuri, and the blond put his feet down, sitting up more and pulling the kid onto his lap. Otabek held his phone out in front of the four of them.

"I recorded your programs," he said. "So you could see how great you did."

The kids leaned closer to the teenager, staring at his phone as he played through the whole duration of Katsudon's program, even if it was mostly just skating around, some edge work, and a few slow spins. Once, his toe pick did stick as he was gliding forward and he fell. It took his a handful of seconds to get himself back up, but once up, he spread his arms and spun.

"That's my favorite part."

Otabek and Victor looked at him like they were ready to cut him, and Katsudon put his fingers in his mouth, his eyebrows into his hairline when he turned back.

"I meant that even though you fell, you got right back up and continued on. That's the mark of a true competitor. If they make a mistake, they get up as quick as they can and they keep going," Yuri said, wrapping his arms around the kid's middle and pulling him closer to the blond's chest. "I didn't like that you fell. I liked that you kept going. I've always respected you for that. I've never known anyone who just  _kept_  getting back up, no matter how many times you fell."

The kid smiled around his fingers, turning back to the video and leaning his head back against Yuri's chest. Even Victor nodded as he watched. When the video ended, Otabek reached out, rubbing a hand through Yuuri's hair. His fingers were knocking against Yuri's chest, and the blond squeezed the kid once again.

Otabek pulled his hand back, starting the other program. Victor had a soft smile on his face through the duration. Otabek put his arm around Victor, dragging him in to his side. For a second, Yuri was floored that this might be the first time the kid had ever seen himself skate. He hadn't mentioned anyone recording him; if he had been recorded, it would have been with one of those huge things that recorded VHS tapes that sat on a person's shoulders.

When the video ended and Victor looked back up, he had tears in his eyes.

"It was very beautiful, Vitya. I loved the way you told the story," Yuri found himself saying. "I wish you knew how great you are going to be some day."

"You have no idea what's waiting for you," Otabek agreed. "One day, you'll grow up and be a world famous skater, a great coach, and find the love of your life. You'll have a very happy future."

"What about you?" Victor asked. "Will you have a happy future?"

Otabek shrugged, but he was smiling. When he leaned back, his shoulder was pressed against Yuri's. "I think so."

"What about Yurio?" Victor asked.

If anything, the taller teen leaned even more into his friend. When he turned to face the blond, Yuri noticed his nose and cheeks was pink. "I hope so. I'll do whatever I can to help Yura have a happy future."

Yuri found himself smiling, but Katsudon reached out a hand, tugging on the front of Otabek's shirt. He was frowning, his fingers leaving his mouth to say, "His name is Yuri."

If anything, Otabek seemed to get even more red. "I know…" Helplessly, he looked at Yuri for help. "It's a…"  _Pet name_ , Yuri's mind supplied instantly, but he quickly shook the thought away. A nickname? That only Otabek called him? "It's affectionate," Otabek said. "Like when we call Victor  _Vitya_. Do you know what affectionate means?"

The kid shook his head. "So you're not being mean?"

"It's the opposite," Victor said, leaning forward and poking Yuuri in the nose. The kid just swatted at his hand. "He does it to show his love."

Yuri could kill Victor, but a sneaky glance at his friend proved that Otabek was glaring down at Victor, too, so that was enough.

"Oh," the kid said. "Like when Yuri calls me Katsudon."

"Sort of," Yuri said, at the same time the other two nodded. "Now."

Otabek said, "Always."

"Shut up."

Yuuri had his fingers in his mouth again, but they were quiet. They waited for whatever came next, and finally, Katsudon broke. "I didn't want you to be mean to him."

"I wouldn't be mean to him."

"I don't like mean names," Yuuri clarified, frowning. " _Fatty_ ,  _Piggy_.  _Loser._  It makes me sad."

Yuri wrapped his hands around the kid, standing up and hauling Katsudon up, too. To keep from falling, Yuuri helped turn himself so he was facing Yuri, wrapping his legs around the teenager's hips and his arms around his neck. The blond walked away from the other two, but the damn open concept of the place meant the only place he could talk without being overhead was in the bedroom. He kicked the ajar door open, shutting it behind him.

When Yuri tried to sit the kid on the bed, he wouldn't let go. So Yuri sat them both down on the edge, keeping the kid on his lap.

"I'm not a nice person," Yuri tried, but Katsudon just put his face in Yuri's shoulder. The blond patted his back, but the kid wasn't crying. Not yet. "I've never been nice. It's not easy for me. I don't like most people, and even when I do, I never learned how to show it. Does that make sense?"

Katsudon shook his head.

"I can't say that I didn't mean it because hate is so easy for me. My ballet coach says that smiling is better than crying, but it's so hard to smile all the time. But it's not hard to be angry. And I'd rather be angry than sad. Wouldn't you?"

Katsudon shrugged.

"I would say I'm sorry I did it, but I'm not. If I hadn't upset you in the bathroom, would you have been motivated to learn Victor's program? Would he have come to you? Would you be the only fucking one on the ice that can compete with me? So I'm not sorry that I was a jerk before, but I'm sorry I hurt your feelings," Yuri put his chin on the kid's forehead. "I won't say those anymore. I wish I knew how to make you better without cutting you down, but I'll try, Yuuri. I promise."

Finally, the kid gave a little sound. But he pulled back, and Yuri looked at him, and the kid didn't have tears in his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Yuri was the one with tears in his eyes. He felt Katsudon put his hands on his face, wiping away the tears that fell. "I'm the one who called you those things."

Katsudon shrugged, "You're not the only one."

"That doesn't make it better," Yuri cried. "We should be friends."

"We are."

It felt backwards, after every night that the blond had found the kid crying, that it was Katsudon comforting him now. He doubted the kid would do it if he remembered their future, remembered that it was Yuri who was the one constantly putting him down, but he couldn't help it right now. He was selfish. He needed the forgiveness, even if it wasn't  _this_  Yuuri's forgiveness to give.

"How am I supposed to tell you that when you're older?"

Katsudon shrugged again. "If I forget we're family, just show me the picture I drew. I'll remember."

Yuri barked out a bitter laugh, wiping at his eyes. After a second, he pulled the kid to his chest, holding him tight. He felt warm when the small arms wound around his middle, hugging him back.

When the pair walked out, Otabek looked behind him, standing when he saw the pair walk out. He didn't move forward, he just looked at the two of them, likely assessing who needed comforting most. After a long second, he said, "Victor's brushing his teeth. Would you like to join him, little Yuuri?"

Katsudon nodded. He wasn't upset, but he did seem tired, the way he dragged himself to the bathroom. And Yuri noticed that he felt heavy, the way he dragged himself over to Otabek. His friend opened his arms, not asking what had spurred on their quick departure or the redness to the blond's eyes, but Yuri didn't go to him, didn't hug him. Not yet.

"Earlier, the kids told me there was only two responses to what your sister said," Yuri said. For a second, Otabek looked confused. And then he looked terrified. "Victor told me I should tell you that you're handsome."

"Oh, wow," Otabek said, glancing behind him toward the bathroom. "Victor thinks I'm handsome? Yuuri's going to kill me. I could be the future Mr. Nikifor –"

Yuri kissed him, barely a press of lips against the other man's, but it was enough to stop him. When Yuri pulled away, the taller teen wasn't talking, wasn't joking. " _I_  think you're handsome, Beka. I really like you."

"Yeah?" Otabek asked, small smile on his face. Just like that, he was pink again. Yuri didn't think he saw his friend that color so much since Barcelona.

"Yeah," Yuri said, smiling. But then he forced his face to darken, poking his friend in the chest. "If you try to marry Victor I will kill you."

"I was kidding."

"I'll  _gut_  you with my skates. I've never been more betrayed."

"I was kid –"

This time, when he hauled Otabek across to kiss him, the teenager was still in the middle of speaking. It was distinctly  _different_ , even if it was awkward at first when they met. Otabek tried to shut his mouth while Yuri tried to open his, but somehow, they managed to compromise.

Somehow, Otabek's lips were around Yuri's bottom lip, and the blond wanted to surge in, lick into him, rip off his shirt and get his hands all over his biceps and broad chest and his abs, but instead, knowing the kids were in the other room, he pulled back.

He didn't notice when Otabek wrapped his arms around him, when his own hands found Otabek's waist, but he didn't even care. Even as the usual feelings of doubt and fear started welling up inside him, Yuri stayed there, looking up at Otabek, refusing to be the one to flinch away.

He felt one of Otabek's arms move from around him, and he figured this was over for now (but they could return? He was pretty sure he was allowed to kiss Otabek whenever he wanted now?), but the teenager just used that hand to reach forward, fingers brushing Yuri's hair out of his face. He tried tucking it behind the blond's ear, but his bangs fell forward again. Otabek smiled, drawing the hair back again, this time holding it away from Yuri's eyes.

The blond felt like he was burning alive.

"So I can kiss you now?" Otabek asked, and in Yuri's mind, he could hear the  _or not_  that the other teen didn't say. "Whenever I want?" Instead, he just nodded, trying to hold back a laugh when Otabek leaned forward, kissing him harder than he had before.

"Yurio," Victor called from the bathroom. Otabek drew back, flushed, eyes darting to the bathroom, but the door was still mostly closed and no kids were popping out from around it. "Can you die from swallowing toothpaste?"

Yuri felt himself laughing, finally, and Otabek chuckled too. For a brief moment, the taller teen put his forehead against Yuri's, just feeling a last moment of being connected, before the blond rushed off to the bathroom.

Luckily, it hadn't been like  _gobs_  of raw toothpaste, but apparently, Yuuri forgot to spit and the blond burst in just in time to stop Victor from shoving his fingers down the kid's throat to make him throw it up. He shooed the kids to the bedroom, where Otabek was waiting with the book they had been reading earlier in the week. Yuri was quick to brush his teeth and release the man from reading duty so he could take his shower.

The kids were silent as Yuri read, save for a snide comment or two. ( _"Beka does_ voices _, Yuri.")_  It seemed late, even if it was around the usual time the kids went to bed, and even after Katsudon fell asleep at Yuri's right, Victor was still awake, resting his head on the blond's chest, reading along as Yuri read aloud.

A chapter or so later, Otabek walked back in. His hair was damp, and he looked a little out of place with his hand brushing through his hair. He looked much the same as he had the night before, but with a small, vulnerable look on his face. The blond hadn't expected to see him again that night, but Victor just pulled back the covers on the other side of him.

"Oh, good," Victor said, "Finally, someone who knows how to  _read_."

Otabek crawled into bed on the other side of Victor, and Yuri wasn't even mad about passing the book back to his friend. In fact, when Victor turned on his side to face Otabek, Yuri turned with him. For a few pages, the blond watched. Otabek did do voices, but it was more than that. It was the damp hair, his raised external body heat from the shower seeping throughout the bed, the tank top – white this time – stretching across his chest, and his exposed arms.

The deep, accented rumble of his voice.

It was the best thing Yuri had ever fallen asleep to.


	5. Day 5

Yuri woke up on his back, with too much weight on him to be Victor, and his eyes shot open, angling his head down, hoping to see an adult Victor acting like an octopus trying to strangle him. (Oh God, what backwards, disgusting life did Yuri live now?) But he was taken aback to see Otabek's mess of dark hair poking out from just below his chin.

Which meant the face he felt pressed against his chest was Otabek's face. The arm wrapped around his waist was Otabek's arm. The leg draped over his legs…

Yuri rested his head back down on the pillow, looking to the side. How did Victor get on  _that_  side of the bed in the middle of the night? Katsudon was still immediately to his right, but somehow, Victor managed to go from between Yuri and Otabek to the other side of Yuuri. Makkachin was sleeping half over both the kids.

The blond couldn't figure out how he was going to get out of this.

Otabek wasn't a child; Yuri couldn't just throw him around like he could the kids. With all of them pinning him in, he felt his heart rate increase. His breathing became shallow as he started to panic.

"Yura," Otabek said, his voice deep and unused from sleep. The taller teen's arm around his waist moved, but he drew his hand back, pushing the blond's shirt away to rest his palm against his bare stomach. "It's Saturday. It's Yakov's day off, which means it's our day off. Please go back to bed."

For a second, the panic seemed to build, but then Otabek pushed the shirt up higher, leaving it up against Yuri's rib cage. He was under the blanket, so he couldn't feel the chill in the air, but he could feel Otabek's fingers moving, tracing patterns over his stomach, almost like he was petting him. It brought him back from the edge of panic, but it wasn't going to help him fall asleep.

"Roll over," Yuri demanded, and Otabek didn't fight it. For a second, Yuri felt cold when the man's weight wasn't on him anymore, but he was quick to follow his friend, putting his forehead between Otabek's shoulder blades, draping his arm over the teenager's waist. For a long second, Yuri froze there, wondering if this was okay, but then Otabek grabbed his hand, hauling it up so it was pressing against his chest.

"Sleep, Yura," Otabek yawned. He was out pretty much instantly.

It took the blond a few moments longer. He both wanted to freak out that he was cuddling with Otabek and sleep forever, but luckily, the warmth of the bed and the comfort won out. He fell back asleep.

* * *

When Yuri woke up again, it was to the soft chatter of kids who were truly trying to be quiet and not wake him up, but still ended up failing. He was still curled around Otabek, and even though the sun as shining in through the window, Yuri wanted to lie here for a while longer. He wanted to know what Otabek would do if he ran his hand up his shirt, tracing over his abdominal muscles, or if he kissed the back of his neck. Instead, he slipped his arm out of Otabek's loose grasp and rolled over.

The kids were facing each other, still lying down, and even though Yuri saw Victor eye him when he moved, his focus quickly went back to whatever was in his hand. The blond wrapped his arm around Katsudon's middle, resting his head higher on the pillow so he could feel the kid's hair under his chin, looking down at whatever they had.

It was a gold ring.

"Hey," Yuri yawned. "Where'd you get that?"

"It was on the stand," Victor said. "It looks like a wedding ring, doesn't it? I've seen it there before, but I never looked because usually, I'm the last one up and I don't want to miss breakfast."

"Not wedding rings," Yuri said, reaching down. The kid in front of him sat up a bit, letting Yuri wrap his arms around him, grabbing the ring and changing the angle, so he could see the engraving. "See, it's got half a snowflake in there. It's supposed to be a good luck charm." He knew it was Victor's ring – it was Victor's side of the bed, Victor's size – so he handed it back to Victor, watching as the kid looked inside the ring.

"Wow," Victor said. "But why only half?"

This time, when Yuri started jostling the kid in front of him, the little Katsudon just sat up, moving so he was sitting cross-legged between Victor and Yuri's legs. The blond rolled back over. He put a hand down on the bed near Otabek's back, pushing himself up. He had to drape himself over his friend to reach the matching ring on the other end table, but he managed to grab it without falling on to of the other teenager.

"Morning," Otabek grumbled, reaching up an hand to grab Yuri's bicep, tugging him down.

He was off balanced, and he was more concerned about not dropping Yuuri's precious ring, so he fell where Otabek pulled him, which was practically right on top of him, as the taller teen rolled onto his back. Otabek didn't seem to mind. His free hand found his hip, like he was going to hold him there; his fingers weren't pushing in hard, but Yuri could feel their distinct pressure. Otabek's other hand went to Yuri's forehead, brushing his bangs to the side and resting at the side of his head, to hold his hair back and out of his face, and Yuri felt the taller teen start to pull him down, as if to  _kiss_  him, but the kids giggled.

Otabek's eyes shot toward them, like he had forgotten why he and Yuri had been in bed together in the first place, and he lifted his arms. Red faced, Yuri shot back, "Good morning," before he sat up next to Katsudon, holding the ring out to him. When the kid took it in his hands, he held it as delicately as he future self would have, like it was the most important thing he had ever seen, had ever touched.

"That one's got the other half," Yuri explained.

"So they  _are_  wedding rings," Victor cried, putting his on top of Katsudon's so the snowflakes lined up. Both kids strained to see it.

"Nah," Otabek said. Yuri looked down at him. He was still lying down, but he was facing toward the other three, his thigh pressed against Yuri's knee. "They're engagement rings."

"Feels like the world's longest engagement," Yuri muttered, but Otabek tapped his leg against his knee again, frowning at him. "I'm just saying."

Victor drew his ring back, tracing his thumb over the shiny gold. "Can I go to the wedding, do you think? I've never been to one before."

Otabek laughed. "Yeah, sure."

Katsudon opened his mouth, but Yuri pulled him into a side hug, saying, "You'll be there, too. Don't worry."

The teenagers let the kids hold the rings for a few moments longer, hoping it would trigger some memory, but if it did, neither kid said anything. When Victor gently put the band back on the end table, Katsudon gave his back to Yuri. Instead of crawling over his friend again, the blond handed it to Otabek, and he put the ring back on the other stand.

For a second, when the three youngest were sitting in a half-circle around Otabek, who rolled back toward them but seemed to refuse to sit up, the blond thought that the Kazakh teen was planning to go back to sleep. He hiked the blanket up over his shoulder and shut his eyes. Whatever his intentions, the kids were having none of it. They both jumped at him, giggling. Otabek was quick to retaliate, so it might have been a ploy all along. Yuri moved back, watching the wrestling match with a small smile on his face.

"Yura," Otabek said with fake desperation. "What kind of friend are you? Help me with these brats."

" _Brats?"_  Victor cried, getting handfuls of Otabek's blanket and tugging. The teenager  _let go_ of the blanket, and Victor tumbled backwards off the bed. For a second, Yuri and Otabek froze, but Victor stood, holding the blanket over his head in victory. "Ha ha! You can't go back to sleep now."

Otabek frowned at the kid, as if he had truly been defeated, before he finally sat up. His hair was sort of a mess, and Yuri wouldn't have guessed that it could look so adorable, disheveled like that. But the teenager ran his fingers through it, and it tamed back down to how it always looked. Yuri could sit there for hours, he suddenly realized, just looking at a sleepy Otabek with his messy hair and his (honestly) too small tank top and the way it made his friend look huge, and Yuri would be happy.

"Fine," Otabek said. "What's for breakfast?"

Katsudon stood up and bounced out of bed, but Victor froze. "What?"

"Whoever gets up first has to make breakfast," Otabek said, pointing at the kids. Yuri knew it was a lie – he had gotten up first yesterday, but Otabek made breakfast – but the kids didn't seem to know that. "So what are you making us?"

"Uh…" Victor said, looking down at Katsudon like the kid would be of any help cooking anything. "We could probably make cereal?"

The littlest kid gave a small nod, but he didn't look too confident.

"I don't want cereal," Yuri said, standing up. Otabek followed behind him, and the four of them left the bedroom. "I want something more filling than that."

"I want shredded hash browns," Otabek added, and Yuri groaned, playing it up for the kids by rubbing his stomach.

"And sausage."

"And poached eggs," Otabek said. He got out a pot from the cupboard and held it out to Victor. The kid took it and looked at the stove. Yuri could see his grip on the pan was deadly, and for a second, it looked like tears were starting to form in his eyes. Otabek reached back down, cupping his hand over Victor's. "You want me to show you how to make them?"

Victor let out a shaky breath and nodded, smile blooming on his face.

Yuri sat at the island with Katsudon. He had helped the kid in the tall chair and kept a hand out, ready to catch him but he knew the kid well enough by now to know he wasn't spastic and a threat to himself like Victor was. Otabek had pulled a chair up to the stove, far enough to the side so Victor couldn't accidentally knock something off, but the blond watched as Otabek explained each step in the process.

He let Victor flip the sausage with some tongs, and the kid beamed, nearly falling off his chair when he turned around to tell Yuri he had done it. Otabek sat a plate down in front of Yuri, scooping Katsudon off his chair and sitting him on the floor. Victor hopped down from his chair, and Otabek handed each of the kids plates. They both walked carefully to the living room, Victor giving Katsudon a blow-by-blow of how the meal had been cooked, even though the kid had watched the whole thing.

Otabek grabbed his own plate and sat down next to Yuri at the island.

After taking his first bite, the blond smiled, still looking down at his food. "I like when you serve me breakfast like this," he admitted, quietly, before he could lose his nerve and ended up saying nothing at all.

"Yeah?" Otabek's voice sounded different, and when Yuri looked over at him, his cheeks were pink.

"Yeah."

"Then I'll do it all the time," Otabek promised. "I'll cook you breakfast whenever you want me to, whenever I can."

Yuri turned back to his food, eating some more. The blond  _wanted_  Otabek to cook for him every morning, probably for the rest of his life. But it wouldn't be long until they were in a hotel at Moscow, in a hotel in Japan, a thousand miles away from each other when Otabek went back to Kazakhstan.

But, Yuri forced himself to think, there was always tomorrow.

By the time Yuri was done, Otabek was too, and the taller teen picked the plate up, carrying them both to the sink, washing them before the blond could object to Otabek doing everything. He tried, but Otabek was already done washing them by then. So he dried his hands and moved back to the blond.

"Go take a shower, if you want," Otabek said, wrapping an arm around his friend's shoulder, leaning in and kissing the side of his head. "The kids aren't done eating, yet."

"Yeah, okay," Yuri said, but he didn't make a move to get out of Otabek's embrace. Instead, he turned on the chair, facing him. He put his hands on Otabek's shoulders, but hesitated. "So… I can still…"

"Yes," Otabek said, but he didn't wait for Yuri to lean across the space and kiss him. It was short, but Otabek was smiling as he moved away, went toward the bedroom. For a second, Yuri's heart raced, and he wanted to jump off the stool and follow him, but he came out half a second later with the book he had been reading the kids and sat down on the couch.

Flustered, Yuri went to get some of the clothes Otabek had washed before, and locked himself in the bathroom.

When he was done, Otabek was reading to the kids, so Yuri decided to make himself useful and take Makkachin out. When he stepped out into the sunlight, Yuri was almost taken aback by how warm it was. He hadn't checked before he left, and he was sweating in his winter coat. It had to be in the sixties. Walking the dog around the corner to his own apartment, he knew it wasn't necessarily unusual for December to be like this in St. Petersburg.

One Christmas, two years ago, it had been nearly eighty. Victor had whined insistently about it (although, that had been right after the Grand Prix where he was love sick over the drunk who had asked him to be his coach and then snubbed him the next day when Victor asked for a picture, so it might not have been the lack of snow that Victor was actually bitching about) and he had dragged Yuri and half their rinkmates out to dinner to distract himself.

This time, he brought Makkachin into the apartment, after giving the dog a very stern talk about his cat. Makkachin sat by the door while Yuri fed Potya and dug through his closet to find those two oversized towels he knew he had  _somewhere_. He found a box of sparklers wrapped in the middle of them, and he threw them all in a bag and went back to the living room. Potya was sitting next to Makkachin; the dog was lying down and she looked like she was holding dominion over him. Yuri couldn't help but sit on the floor and pet the animals for a few minutes, before he and Makkachin were off again.

When he let himself back into Victor's apartment, nobody was around. He called out as he took off his shoes and unlatched Makkachin. When he stood back up, Otabek was walking out of the bathroom, leaving the door ajar. Yuri could hear the kids talking in there.

His friend had already changed, and he looked just as good in a t-shirt and jeans, Yuri thought. The blond took a step toward Otabek, intending to help him with the kid's bath, but the taller teen was already in front of him, cupping his hands at Yuri's face and dragging him in.

This kiss wasn't anything like the ones they had shared before. The others had been short,  _sweet_ , but the force of this one took Yuri's breath away. He could feel Otabek's tongue sliding against his lip, so he opened his mouth. Yuri dropped the bag with the towels in it, reaching forward, gripping at Otabek's hips for something to ground himself to.

For it taking Yuri by surprise, he thought he caught up well. Yuri was tugging at Otabek's hips, trying to guide him, eventually pushing him away. Otabek looked stunned for a second, then even more so when his heel hit the back of the couch and he fell backwards on to it. He looked terrified for a second, sitting on the couch, pressed against the back like wanted to disappear.

"Yuri, I…" but the blond didn't wait. He hadn't been pushing Otabek away, but  _down_. Yuri knew he should be terrified as he put his knees on the couch, on either side of Otabek's lap, and put his hands on the other teen's face. Otabek was red, his face was so warm it felt like it could catch fire, but when Yuri kissed him again, he felt the warm hands on his hips, pulling Yuri closer.

Suddenly, there was a loud splash from the bathroom, and Yuri pulled away, hands still on Otabek, but looking toward the bathroom. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Victor yelled, too quickly.

"Yuuri?"

"I'm okay!" Katsudon called. "I just… uh… I'll clean it up."

Yuri looked back at Otabek. For every bit of a mess the teen looked this morning, sleepy and rumpled, he looked worse now. Well, better, so much better. His hands were still locked at Yuri's hips, his hair was everywhere (which, Yuri admitted, was probably his fault), so he let his hands move from Otabek's face to his hair, running his fingers through it to smooth it back down.

The teen's eyes still looked wild when Yuri let his hands fall.

"I should help…"

"I don't want you to," Otabek said, looking up at where Yuri was still hovering above him. "I… I'm sorry I attacked you."

"I'm not."

"I just wasn't sure when I'd get another chance without them," Otabek admitted guiltily.

Yuri grinned, feeling the bravado coursing through him like a drug. He pushed one last kiss to his friend's mouth and added, "They won't be kids forever," before getting up, walking toward the bathroom. On his way, he heard Otabek swear under his breath, and he couldn't get the grin off his face.

Until he walked into the bathroom.

The kids were out of the bathtub and the water was already drained. They were both about half dressed – Victor from the waist down, Yuuri with a t-shirt and underwear but no pants – and they were  _trying_  to clean up their mess. Two towels were on the floor and they were scrubbing at the water, and Yuri was just glad he didn't walk in and get his socks wet.

"What the hell happened?" Yuri said, proud of himself that he sounded more curious than angry. He was even more proud when both the kids looked up at him and neither one had tears in their eyes.

"Gravity," Victor said, then resumed his frantic drying.

"You want some help?"

Katsudon shook his head. "Mari says if I make a mess, I have to clean it."

"I'll help if you want, though," Yuri said. He heard Otabek approaching, then felt his warmth when he stopped just behind him, looking around the blond to the mess of the bathroom. "Mari's right. It's your responsibility. But that's what friends do. They help each other."

The kids looked at each other for a second, before Katsudon let out a sigh and nodded. "Please help us?"

Yuri nodded, took off his socks, and grabbed a towel. The four of them cramped into the bathroom was hard to navigate. Yuri accidentally elbowed Victor in the side more than once, (well, accidentally once, the rest were on purpose), but they made quick work of cleaning up the bathroom, and finally getting the kids the rest of the way dressed.

The blond was quick to put his socks back on when the bathroom was done, but Otabek brought out the first aid kit and started to fix himself back up. The kids sat on either side of him on the couch, chatting about the book they were reading. Yuri wondered, momentarily, if he was still in as much pain as he had been the night before. He hadn't noticed a limp when Otabek was cooking or when he rushed at him to make out.

Yuri felt his face growing warmer.

"Hey," he said, and the three of them looked up at him. "It's pretty warm out, so I had this… uh… idea of something we can do today. Since it's our day off, and all."

"Are we going to go –"

"We're not going skating," Otabek said, elbowing the kid's arm. "It's our day  _off_. I don't even want to see ice."

"The beach," Yuri said, and the two looked back at him. "It's not warm enough for swimming or like, running around in a bathing suit, but we can do some other stuff."

"I love the beach," Victor cried, and even Katsudon nodded. The kids were quick to get around. Yuri took all his other clothes out of his backpack and shoved in the towels. Otabek packed a few of Makkachin's balls, a change of socks for the kids, and a portable speaker. Yuri threw on a zip-up jacket, but Otabek must not have believed him when he said it was warm because he put on a hoodie then his Kazakhstan warm up, too.

Victor grabbed Makkachin's leash and they were off.

They stopped by a store on their way so they could get some supplies. Yuri took the kids to get lighter jackets – it was too warm for their winter coats, but he didn't want the kids outside in just a t-shirt all day too – and met Otabek back up front. The taller teen had found plastic buckets and shovels and a rubber kick ball for practically nothing because of the season. Yuri didn't even wince as he handed over his card.

When they left, Yuri started making his way east.

"Hey," Victor called. "The pier is the other way."

"Not going to the pier," Yuri said. "Train station. I want to go to Tarkhovka."

The delighted sound Victor made proved to the blond it was the right choice. Yuri bought the four of them tickets. The ticket man tried to make them leave Makkachin, saying he only allowed dogs in bags on the train, but when Yuri opened his backpack like he was going to shove Makkachin in, they guy sighed and let them on anyway.

Victor patted the man's arm, assuring him that Makkachin was a good doggy, before moving back and taking his seat. Yuri and Otabek sat on the right side of the train, next to each other with Katsudon on Otabek's lap, but Victor sat across the aisle on the left with the dog. Yuri wasn't sure how often Victor went to Tarkhovka, but as the train started moving, the kid was drawn to the outside. It took less time in a car, but that wasn't an option, so Yuri settled in, sat low in his seat so he could put his knees against the seat in front of him, and looked toward Otabek, out the window to his right.

The train stopped several times as people got on and off, but the kids were really good, even if the ride did take forty-five minutes.

When they got there, they still had to walk about ten minutes, but even as they got into the little town, Yuri could smell the water and when they could  _see_  it, the kids ran onto the sand like it was ninety and they intended to jump in the water.

There were a handful of other people walking dogs or running through the sand, but they were the only ones with bags of stuff who intended to stay. Yuri dug in his backpack, laying out the towels so they had a place to sit that wasn't right in the sand. The kids, and Otabek it seemed, wanted to do  _everything_. Victor wanted to throw the ball to Makkachin, Katsudon wanted to build a sandcastle, and Otabek wanted to move down the beach to the net and play volleyball.

"We have time to do all that," Yuri said, sitting on the towel. "We have all day."

It started with everyone siting. The kids, despite the chilly breeze, wanted to feel the sand on their feet. They put their socks in their shoes, rolling up their pants. Katsudon's kept falling down, so Yuri helped him roll his up. Then they ran back and forth, up and down the beach,

"Whoa," Victor said, stopping on a dime and squatting down. "Check this seashell out."

Katsudon ran up to him, and after a quick glance at Yuri, Otabek got up and went to him, too. So the blond followed. For a long time after that, the kids searched along the water line, looking for anything of interest. For some weird reason, Victor was  _sure_  they were going to find an arrowhead, and was disappointed when, after an hour of picking everything that wasn't sand up, they hadn't found an arrowhead.

"Do you think he means a shark tooth?" Otabek asked, while the kids were some twenty feet away, organizing their shells by some random order that only made sense to the two of them.

Yuri laughed, "I wouldn't be surprised."

The kids put their shells into one of the buckets Otabek had bought. Yuri and Otabek went back over to them, sitting down. The blond held out a bottle of hand sanitizer – they could probably catch some disease from dirty shells – and the rest of them held out their hands, rubbing it in. Yuri had made sandwiches before they left, and he pulled them out, passing them around. He kept his in the bag, hand sanitizer wouldn't really get the sand from his hands, but Victor and Katsudon didn't seem as bothered.

After their quick, makeshift lunch, the kids grabbed the pail without the shells in it and ran down to the water line. Neither dared put their feet in the cold water, but Victor leaned over, filling the bucket up about halfway. He carried it back, near the blankets, and dumped it on the sand.

It was Katsudon who had promise as an architect. Though, he did live within walking distance of a beach. As he gave short directions to Otabek and Victor, Yuri thought about what summers in Hasetsu must have been like. Back then, Yuuri's parents would have been working at the inn, and he wondered if their parents trusted an eight-year-old Mari to watch her little brother by herself or if they made time to go as a family.

Yuri imagined Katsudon growing up on the beach, going with Yuuko when they were old enough to go together. Maybe Nishigori would have tagged along too. It wouldn't have been too different from their time at the rink. Yuuko and Katsudon would be walking Vicchan, gushing about Victor, probably, while Nishigori teased them both about it. Maybe the three of them built sand castles together.

He wondered if when Victor and Yuuri visited Hasetsu, Katsudon would go with the triplets to the beach, buying them ice cream and throwing a ball to Makkachin.

"Yuri?" Katsudon asked. "Would you get us some more water?"

The blond obliged.

When he sat the pail down, he couldn't help but notice how lost Victor and Otabek looked in comparison. Victor had lived half an hour from this beach for most of his life, but Victor wasn't a sandcastle type of person. He was a swimmer, or at the very least, someone who liked to sit in the water. Plus, Yuri thought bitterly, Victor had been alone as a kid, same as him. They didn't grow up with a family. There wouldn't have been anyone to take Victor, so there wouldn't have been much of a reason to go until he go at all until he got Makkachin. Victor didn't really hang out with any of the other skaters, and while Yuri knew he frequented the beaches during competitions with Christophe, Victor never really had any friends.

Until Yuuri, that is.

The blond drew his knees to his chest, watching as the three of them built their sandcastle. At least if nothing else, Victor had someone now. He had someone he was going back to, when he grew up, but he also had the three of them in this moment, a family, if even it only lasted for a short time.

Victor grew bored, digging in Yuri's bag for a ball. Makkachin, who had been napping on the blanket was suddenly wide awake. Yuri went with him down the beach, and they took turns throwing the ball as far as they could down the sand.

"This was a good idea," Victor said. "I like the beach."

"Yeah," Yuri agreed. "Me too."

They were quiet for a long moment, throwing the ball and waiting for Makkachin to deliver it back, and again and again and again. Yuri enjoyed the smell of the water, the cool breeze and the sound of the birds squawking overhead. And Victor looked relaxed, looked like he was home.

"Appreciate this."

"What?" Victor asked, picking the all up from where Makkachin had dropped it, handing it over to Yuri. The blond chucked it as far away as he could, and the dog took off running.

"The sound of the birds," Yuri said. "You told me once that you liked the sound because it reminded you of home. Of here. But you said you never appreciated it because you thought St. Petersburg would always be your home."

"It won't be?"

"A home isn't a place," Yuri shrugged. "Not really. It's where your loved ones are. I never really felt like St. Petersburg was my home, and I've been here for six years. I always thought of my grandpa in Moscow, but…" he shrugged, looking behind him. Otabek and Katsudon were dumping water into the moat, their creation nearly complete. "This sort of feels like home, right now."

Victor nodded. He was quiet again, but not for long. "Otabek's going to leave us, isn't he?"

Yuri shrugged, but he said, "Probably."

"How often do we get to see him?"

"Sometimes during competitions. If we all somehow got lucky, that's a few times a year. Well, actually that would be unlucky," Yuri said. "If we compete against each other in the qualifications to the Grand Prix, then one of us is bound to get knocked out by the others. Then someone stupid like JJ could breeze through."

"I don't know JJ."

Yuri grinned, "You're not missing anything."

"So, he'll be with us until Moscow, then we'll see him in a few weeks at the Grand Prix finals," Victor said. "What's after that?"

"Me and you will do the European Championships. Then it's Four Continents, which Otabek and Yuuri will compete in. The Winter Olympics, I guess…"

"The Olympics!" Victor cried. "We'll compete in the Olympics?"

"Well," Yuri frowned. Three of the four of them were probably going to compete. There weren't a ton of Kazakh skaters in the first place, and Katsudon was the reigning Japanese Champion three out of the past four years. Yuri was less sure of himself, only because he wasn't sure what his body would do in the next month. But Victor… would he be going as a competitor  _and_  a coach or just a coach? Well, probably both unless Georgi did something impressive in the next month. "We'll all go, even if we aren't going to compete."

"I've never been to the Olympics before," Victor cried.

"Words is in March, and some of us compete in other competitions after, but not all of us," Yuri shrugged. "Then we don't compete again until either the Challenger series or really, whichever the first Grand Prix is, which is October."

"So," Victor said. "From March until October, you're free. He can come back and hang out with us."

"We're never really  _free_ , Victor."

"Hey!"

Yuri and Victor turned around, seeing Otabek and Katsudon waving at them. The pair went back to join the group, and even though Yuri had watched half of it being built, it was still impressive. He scooped the kid up, enjoying the way Yuuri wrapped his arms around his shoulders and laughed when Yuri spun him around.

"It's beautiful," Yuri said. "I didn't know you had such a talent for building."

"Otabek helped, too," Katsudon said. "And Victor."

"Yeah, I helped too," Otabek said. "Spin me around, too, Yuri."

The kids giggled, but Yuri just stuck his tongue out at his friend. The look he got back sent a shiver down his spine and he thought about throwing the kid and attacking Otabek, but he obviously  _wouldn't do that_. Instead, he sat Katsudon down gently and had the three of them pose next to the sandcastle so he could get a picture of them with it.

This time when everyone took off, it was after Otabek and the kickball.

For a while, Yuri ran after him down the beach, but he could not get the ball away from him. Winded from running in the sand, he stopped and watched the teenager keep two kids away, not by speed, but by skill. If Yuri didn't know him, he would have thought Otabek was a soccer player, not a skater. It was almost mesmerizing, watching the way he could kick it behind him, fake one of the kids out by jumping over the ball, or lob it straight up in the air or over one of their heads, then beat them to the ball.

"Did you play?" Yuri called. "Soccer, I mean, when you were a kid?"

"I still play, sometimes," Otabek said. "I wasn't any good at dance, remember? I was on the soccer team when I was a kid, though, before I entered juniors. When my coach found out, he had me train with the high school team to learn footwork. It helped with my step sequence."

"That's actually really cool," Yuri said. Otabek shrugged.

When Otabek kicked it again, it went right over Victor's head (and hands, the cheater put his hands up), and dropped right at Yuri's feet. The blond was nowhere near as coordinated, but he was fast. He managed to keep them off for a while, but when he went to kick it over Katsudon back to Otabek, he somehow managed to kick it right into Victor's chest.

The kid grunted, but he was happier with his victory than he was hurt. Otabek stole it back before Victor could even touch foot to the ball, but after proving he could do it, he gave the kids the ball back.

Yuri felt exhausted and sweaty by the time Victor was practically collapsed into the sand, and even Otabek looked like he had enough.

"Hey," the elder teen said, looking down at his phone. "There's a restaurant in that town. Wanna grab dinner?"

Considering they had been alone on the beach all day, they figured some of their stuff would be safe there. They left the pail of shells and towels near the sandcastle, but Otabek found some big rocks to put on the towels so they wouldn't fly away. They left the pails and small, plastic shovels, but Yuri brought his backpack.

It only took them a few minutes to walk to the diner, but as soon as they walked in, Yuri shooed the kids to the bathroom. Both kids had to go, but Yuri was more concerned about watching them, making sure they did a good enough job at scrubbing their hands. When everyone was nice and clean, they left and joined Otabek at the table (for a brief second before Yuri asked, "Are you gonna wash your hands, or not?" and Otabek smiled, but he went to the bathroom.)

They sat at a booth with a wide window. They could see Makkachin outside, lying on the pavement, taking a well-deserved nap while they ate. Yuri felt guilty leaving him out there, but Victor insisted that he would bring his leftovers for the dog and that would more than make up for it.

The kids wanted to sit together, which was fine for Yuri, until Otabek sat back down and his thigh was pushed up against Yuri's. He didn't figure he was going to spend his whole dinner fighting a blush, but the way the teenager offered him a soft smile proved that wasn't the case.

The waitress brought them three menus, giving one to Victor but not Katsudon and asked for the drink order. She asked in Russian, and the poor kid looked like he had suddenly been dropped on a different planet. Yuri was quick to translate, then tell the waitress what the kid wanted to drink.

When she left, Victor put the menu between him and Katsudon. "Here," Victor said. "I'll translate for you and then we can tell her what you want."

Even though Yuri should be picking out his own dinner, it was so adorable to see Victor start at the top and point to every thing on the menu, translating the Cyrillic to English for the kid. He didn't read the descriptions, just what the food was, unless Yuuri asked him what was on it. In the end, Victor didn't translate the whole menu. The kid stopped him when he got to the Pirozhki. It was something Katsudon recognized at least.

When the waitress came back with their drinks, they ordered their meals. She even brought coloring place mats over for the kids, and it was a welcome distraction to them. Both seemed happy enough to ignore the babysitters in favor of attacking the mat and muttering to each other about their artistic choices in coloring the penguin orange.

Yuri took a sip of his warm tea, testing how hot it was, and sat it back down. Otabek was leaning back, his ankle across his knee (which was  _definitely_  pushing his thigh up against Yuri's), draping his arm along the back of the booth. This time, Yuri did sit back, feeling the other teenager's arm across the back of his neck.

"I wanna do a fire when we get back," Yuri said, closing his eyes, letting his friend's warmth seep into his skin. "I mean, we won't stay out to late, because it's a long ride back, but… maybe even just until six or seven."

"Yeah, okay," Otabek said.

"They had a fire when we were on Hasetsu, once," Yuri said, keeping his eyes closed. He could remember it like it was yesterday, even if it had been over a year ago. "It was when I chased  _him_  from Russia. Before the Hot Springs on Ice exhibition but only the night before or maybe two. Me and Katsudon wanted to sleep, but Victor dragged us out there anyway. It was about the same temperature, actually. He lit a fire, and it was  _so nice._  Victor bought us sparklers. The pictures were so beautiful."

He opened his eyes and the kids were looking at him.

"I pretended to hate it," he said. "But I didn't."

"I don't remember," Victor frowned.

"It's okay," Yuri said. "It was a long time ago. And we can do it again tonight. I… that's why I wanted to bring you to the beach. It was a nice night, and I wanted to show you how much I actually enjoyed it the first time, even if you don't remember it."

The waitress brought their food and Yuri sat up, feeling himself flushing that he had been caught leaning back into Otabek, but if the other teenager minded, he didn't say anything. Victor had gotten some meat that came as a slab. Yuri watched him struggle with a knife for a long moment before Otabek pushed his own dish to the side, grabbing Victor's plate and dragging it toward him. Neither of them mentioned it, Otabek was still asking Katsudon how his pirozhki was, but he cut all of Victor's meat up into small bites. When he pushed the plate back, Victor's eyes were huge and grateful, but instead of saying anything about it, Victor just asked Otabek about his sister.

For about ten minutes after that, it was quiet. Everyone must have been as hungry as Yuri felt because for a long while, they just devoured their food, not bothering to talk around the meal.

Otabek took a bite of his sandwich, setting it back down and wiping his hands on a napkin. "This is my favorite type of places," he said. "Like a little known diner. I mean, I love dive bars and coffee shops, but a diner has character."

He stuck a greasy thumb in his mouth, and Yuri felt like he suddenly couldn't swallow around the lump in his throat. Otabek was quick to remove it, pointing instead at the pictures on the wall. It was three separate paintings, definitely not professionally done, even if they were pretty good for an amateur. The Christmas lights around them showered the painted snow in a rainbow of colors.

"I love those," Otabek explained. "I wish I could paint."

"Have you ever done those guided painting things? With the alcohol?" Yuri asked. "I bet that would be kind of cool."

Otabek smiled at him. "You're such a secret softy."

"Shut up."

After another few seconds of silence, Victor stabbed a piece of meat and held it to his mouth. "Do I have a friend named Chris?"

Yuri gaped at him, and Victor just shoved the food in his mouth. "Yeah, why?"

"I think we did that once. I remember… We weren't at home. It was somewhere far away, and Chris was mad at his… maybe his boyfriend? I don't remember," Victor pushed some peas around on his plate. "So we went out, but we were tired, so we didn't want to go anyplace loud. I think it was at a restaurant, but Chris got really drink and flirted with the guy leading our painting party. It was funny." Victor froze, looking up at Yuri. "But… I was… older?"

Yuri nodded.

"That's weird," Victor said, shrugging. "But I guess that makes sense because why would an old guy like Chris be hanging out with a kid."

Otabek laughed. "I'm going to tell him you said he was old. He already thinks he's a relic and he's not even the oldest skater on the rink."

Victor looked back at his plate.

"I remember Chris," Katsudon said suddenly. "He  _touched my butt_."

At that, Yuri found himself choking on his drink. He grabbed a napkin, holding it over his nose and his mouth. He was coughing, trying desperately to get up, to  _leave the fucking table_  so he could drown in his water in peace, but Otabek wouldn't let him up. Instead, the teenager just started pounding at his back.

"He did  _what_?" Victor cried.

"Remember? You were there," Katsudon said.

"That makes me mad," Victor said. "I'm going to punch him the next time I see him."

Yuuri looked confused, but Otabek shushed the kids, his palm heavy on Yuri's back while the blond regained control of his breathing. "Let's not talk about Chris anymore," Otabek said. "Isn't there anything else you remember?"

The kids fell silent again, and that was enough for Yuri to recover. They finished most of the rest of their dinner in silence. When they went to the check out, Otabek payed, much to Yuri's annoyance, but the taller teen just pulled him into a side-armed hug, kissing the side of his head to quiet him. And it worked well enough. The blond stopped fussing, pulling Victor closer to him, both hands on his shoulders.

When they walked out of the diner and back to the beach, Yuri couldn't help but feel like a family. Katsudon was on Otabek's shoulders, and Victor had one hand around Makkachin's leash and one hand clenching at Yuri's palm. Yuri had the leftovers they could give Makkachin saved in a bag at the crook of his arm. His other hand was threaded through Otabek's. It seemed so  _domestic_ , so blissful, that when they got back to the beach and Otabek knelt down, letting Katsudon off his shoulders so he could start getting rocks for a fire, Yuri felt his loss as he walked away.

Yuri and the kids opened up the styrofoam, and Makkachin went to town on their leftovers. Victor patted the dog's back while he ate, and Yuri went to help Otabek. Once they had a ring of rocks, the pair gathered some dry leaves. They couldn't find any of the big logs Katsudon's family had in reserve  _for_  fires, but they found a lot of little sticks. They threw everything on the pile. The fire wouldn't last long without the big wooden logs, but that was okay.

The sun was going down over the horizon. Everything seemed so  _yellow_ , Yuri noticed. The sky, the water, the beach and sand. Even them. Makkachin was a brown dog, he knew, but he looked almost blond in the light. Katsudon was bathed in the light, making his giant smile look angelic, and Victor seemed to glow.

"Hey," Yuri called, desperate to make up for his past failings as a friend. The blond brought out his phone, snapping a picture. He showed the picture to the two of them, his two kids, and said, "It looks like Yuuri has a halo. And look at your eyes, Vitya. You're both look so pretty."

Victor smiled at him, offering a little thumbs up, before turning his attention back to Makkachin.

"Yura," Otabek said, "You want to light it?"

Yuri looked back at his friend. Even Otabek looked godly, bathed in light. His friend was always so dark – dark hair, dark eyes, always clothed in dark leather and dark jeans – but looking at him now, he was almost silhouetted in the sun. Yuri could see his hair, his outline, but his expression was washed out. So he moved around, so his back was to the sun and Otabek was squinting into the light to look at Yuri.

Even squinting, Otabek looked every bit the hero washed in the light, and Yuri didn't know what he did to deserve someone like Otabek for his friend. The teenager raised his hand to his face, blocking out the sun.

"You can," Yuri said.

It was the warmth that Yuri felt first. It lit easily, even though it had been snowing for the past couple of days, they managed to find some dry sticks. The fire wouldn't last long, but that was fine. They had time.

While Otabek tended the fire, adding new sticks to keep it going, Yuri grabbed his bluetooth speaker. Otabek handed over his phone so Yuri could pick the music, and the blond smiled, seeing his background picture was one of three of them, at the park a few days ago. As he put it on Pandora, the kids ran up to him. They weren't far from their towels, but the kids dragged them closer, sitting on them next to their small fire.

When the sun finally went down and the sky grew dark, the kids chatted back and forth, digging through their seashells again. For all that Otabek claimed he couldn't dance, he swayed along to the music, singing along quietly. Yuri was content to sit between them, his knees hugged to his chest, and just enjoy the moment.

"Yura, kids," Otabek said. When the three of them looked at the taller teen, he was pointing to the sky. "Do you know  _Star light star bright_?"

Yuri and Victor shook their heads, but Katsudon jumped in, repeating the rest of it with Otabek:  _"First star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might have the wish I wish tonight."_

The littlest kid closed his eyes, making his wish. After a second of observing, Victor looked up at the star before his slid shut, too. Yuri didn't close his eyes; he just kept looking up at only star, burning up there with the rest of them not visible yet, and Yuri couldn't think of something to wish for.

He could wish that he would never grow another inch, never gain another pound, always look every bit of a slender ballerina that he did now. But it didn't matter. If Victor could skate at nearly six foot, Yuri could skate better if he were even taller. If Otabek could skate with a broad chest, then Yuri could do it too.

He could wish for Otabek to stay, but that didn't matter either. Whether they were together or apart, it wouldn't change anything. Otabek was his best friend, and Yuri loved him. The blond wouldn't drag him away from Almaty the same as Otabek wouldn't drag Yuri from Yakov. They would make it work, whatever Otabek decided to do.

And he could wish for the kids to grow up, to be their annoying, loving, adult selves again. That mattered, he knew. They  _needed_  to grow up. If Victor didn't show up for the Rostelecom Cup, the world would know something happened to him. But… he couldn't wish that. He was terrified of it. When they grew up, they would be their annoying, loving, adult selves again. What if Yuri was  _still_  bothered by them?

He was afraid to lose this.

So in the end, Yuri looked back at the fire, and he didn't wish for anything.

Otabek was poking at the fire with another stick, and when the kids opened their eyes again, Yuri dug back into his backpack. "I brought these," he said, pulling out the box of sparklers. "Maybe we can get some cool pictures with them."

The blond was nervous about letting the kids reach that close to the fire, but when he saw both of them standing back as far as they could to light the end, he relaxed a bit. He still stood close by, so he could grab one of them if they fell.

Victor's lit first, and the kid took a surprised step back. Then he was running off down the beach, Katsudon close behind him, until they were far enough away to dance and wave the sparkler around without worrying about falling in the fire. It was a pretty, watching as the kids pretended they were skating, focusing on the light that seemed to be left behind in the darkness when they moved the sparkler.

Yuri got a picture of Katsudon doing a pirouette, his arm raised and the sparks raining down over him. Victor jumped, and the light trailed behind him, but even though Yuri had wanted the pictures, had wanted to remember  _this_  if nothing else, he dug four sparklers out when the kids came back in the darkness, the smell of sulfur as they clenched the little metal handle. This time, he handed one over to Otabek, too.

When they caught, all four of them went running.

Makkachin was barking, the kids were laughing, the waves were crashing on the beach, and Yuri felt like he was going to cry.

They blew through the box of sparklers, and it wasn't like it was summer time and every shop near the beach would be selling them, but the kids didn't complain. Once the metal had cooled, they threw away the rods and sat together by the fire, watching as it burned itself out. Katsudon crawled into Yuri's lap, fingers in his mouth as he looked out toward the ocean, and Yuri, growing cold without the sun, wrapped his arms around the kid to keep the wind from hitting him too much.

"I'm glad we did this," Victor said, resting his head against Otabek's arm. The teenager opened his arm and let the kid cuddle against his side, resting his hand on Victor's shoulder to keep him close. "I love skating, but a day off is good, too."

"Same," Otabek said. "I haven't been to the beach since Leo dragged me off to see his family during one of our summer breaks."

"I didn't know you were close with Leo," Yuri said, using an unburnt piece of wood to poke at the embers.

Otabek shrugged. "He's pretty cool. Nice, you know. Not JJ." Yuri grinned. "I never made close friendships with any of my rinkmates before... well, now, I guess. I spent years with Leo, but until I went to his house, I couldn't have told you anything about him. I was jealous of Phichit and Yuuri when I was younger."

" _He_ ," Yuri said, glancing down at Katsudon, "Would flip  _shit_  if he knew you'd ever been jealous of him."

Otabek laughed. "I'm jealous right now. Or, well, envious. He has everything a person could want."

"Hey,  _I'm_  the one with the gold –"

"Not that," Otabek leaned forward, brushing the hair from Katsudon's face. The kid blinked at him, sleepily, smiling around the fingers in his mouth. "I mean, yeah, he's one of the best skaters in the world, and he still has you to push him and make him want to be even better. But it's more than that. He's surrounded by his friends and family at all times, even while he's living here, thousands of miles away from his family. They still call him, message him, support him. He's engaged to someone who really loves him. He's happy."

"Your sister called you," Yuri said, not sure how to answer. "I message you when you're gone."

"I know, but…" Otabek said, he looked over at Yuri, but the blond could barely see him. The fire was burned out, there were barely even any embers that remained. "What about the rest of it?"

"You're not happy?"

"I am right now," Otabek said. "But not usually."

"Yeah," Yuri whispered back. At least he could relate to that.

"Beka? Yurio?" Victor said suddenly. Yuri could see the movement of the kid moving closer to the teenager, even if they did mostly look like blobs in the dark. "I'm tired."

"Yeah," Otabek said, somehow managing to stand up without knocking Victor over. "Me too. Let's go back home."

Yuri gathered up the blankets, stuffing them in a plastic bag before putting them in his backpack, hoping that they wouldn't get sand everywhere inside. Otabek put sand on what was left of the fire, and even though the kids were tired, they both walked back to the train station: Victor clenching Otabek's hand, and Katsudon holding Yuri's. This time, the person checking their return tickets didn't say anything about Makkachin, and as soon as the kids settled into their seats, they were asleep.

The blond wanted to pass out, too, but figured he should try to stay awake. It was only eight o'clock, but the outside air and running around left him feeling drained. When he felt a warm arm drape over his shoulders, pulling him flush against Otabek's side, he knew that he was going to really fight sleep.

Then he felt the body next to him shift, so Otabek was facing toward Yuri and the blond's shoulder was leaning against Otabek's chest. He took a deep breath in when he felt the hands in his hair. It was calming, warm, like he was being petted, and he wondered if this was what Potya felt like when she curled up on his lap.

"You're good with them," Otabek murmured. "I know I've said it before, but you are."

For a long moment, Yuri fought down the automatic response. He thought about Katsudon crying on the slide, every time Victor fought him on something stupid, but he also thought about skating together, meals together,  _today_ , and he said, "Thanks."

For most of the ride back they were silent, and even though Yuri wanted to sleep, he didn't. He felt Otabek awkwardly braid his hair – they weren't at a good angle for it – and take it out, only to braid it again. The teen would wrap his arms around his waist, hold him close, before reaching out and taking his hand. Otabek studied every inch of Yuri's hand, the blond thought, mapping it out by touch. Then his hands were back in Yuri's hair.

He felt like he was being studied, that Otabek thought he was something worthy of such careful attention.

The kids woke up before the train came to a stop, and even though Victor looked over at them (and shot Yuri a thumbs up), neither kid addressed them further. He could hear them talking, but could only make out every fifth or sixth word over the rumble of the tracks. It sounded like they were talking about a wedding.

It was only a few blocks back to Victor's apartment from the train station, but the second Yuri stepped into the open air, he was shivering. In the forty-some minute ride back, the temperature dropped considerably. The kids didn't seem to mind it. Victor and Katsudon were walking hand-in-hand three or four paces in front of the teenagers, like they were in their own world and didn't even realize the other two were behind them.

Otabek took off his Kazakhstan warm up, and Yuri noted that it was actually really smart of him to wear two jackets. When Otabek held it out to him, the blond asked, "Aren't you cold without it?"

The taller teen shrugged. "You're freezing. I can go a few minutes without it."

This time, Yuri took it. As he fed his arms through the sleeves and zipped it up, he couldn't help but notice the smell: the beach from earlier, that cold scent of winter time, and Otabek's shampoo or deodorant. Yuri was definitely warmer, but he wasn't sure if it was really because of the added layer.

When they got back, the kids got ready for bed like zombies. The four of them brushed their teeth together, then Yuri took the kids to the bathroom while Otabek showered. Their jackets were abandoned on the floor, and Yuri changed into pajamas while the kids settled in close together on Victor's side of the bed, leaving Yuri no choice but to claim the middle.

They didn't bitch about his reading aloud, but Victor did throw a grin over his shoulder at Katsudon the second a character spoke and didn't get a voice. By the time Otabek let himself into the bedroom, looking as sheepish and uncertain as he had the night before, the kids were both already asleep.

"I, uh…" Otabek said, running a hand through his damp hair. "I was going to read to them if they were awake."

"You can stay, Beka," Yuri said, holding back the blankets next to him. The elder teen nodded, but he moved slowly, like at any second Yuri would change his mind. He lay on his side, facing the blond, and Yuri moved closer to him, putting his face near his friend's chest, breathing in the smell of him.

Otabek chuckled. "You smell like outside." Yuri felt the taller teen's face press into his hair. "It's not as good as sweaty rink and victory, but it's still nice."

"You too," Yuri said, noticing the way the other teenager flinched when his breath hit the bare skin of his neck. "Not outside, but nice. Warm."

Yuri felt Otabek's hand trail down his back, settling at his hip.

"Good night, Yura." The blond heard, feeling a kiss pressed against his head. The blond tried to snuggle closer into Otabek's arms.

"'Night, Beka."


	6. The First Day of the Rest of their Lives

When Yuri woke up, he was warm on every side, but that wasn't unusual. He  _was_  sharing a bed with three other people. He could feel a body against his back, and it must have been Victor, because it was certainly bigger than Katsudon, but they hadn't fallen asleep like that. He remembered falling asleep curled against Otabek's chest, in his friends arms, but now, Otabek was lower. Yuri's arms were around his shoulders, but he could feel the puff of his friend's breath on his chest.

Yuri opened his eyes, wanting to check the time. Sunday mornings meant they started with a team skate – all the senior division members were supposed to be on the ice, together – but when he looked down, trying to figure out how he was going to untangle himself from Otabek, he noticed the hair wasn't right.

The blond reached up a hand, running his fingers over the side of the head in front of him, where Otabek kept his shaved.

"Stop it," the man below him muttered, and Yuri froze. That was  _not_  Otabek's voice. "Give me a few more minutes, Victor."

Yuri shot up, gripping at the man's shoulder – his naked shoulder, ew – and forced him to lay flat on his back. The blond laughed, even as Katsudon opened his eyes, blinking up at him like he had the worst hangover in the world.

"Yurio?"

"That's not my name," Yuri shot back, but he was still grinning, and he couldn't help himself when he wrapped his arms around the man, the twenty-six year old  _man_ , and hugged him. "I kept you alive, damn it. I didn't kill you."

"Uh…"

"Beka," Yuri sat up, throwing the blanket off of him. The unfortunate thing was they were all  _sharing_ a blanket, and Katsudon cried out, gripping at the blanket to keep from exposing himself, but Victor, who was on the other side of Otabek now for some reason (damn those kids moved around a lot in the night) wasn't awake yet, so when the blanket was thrown off of Otabek, they were thrown off Victor, too. "Jesus Christ, Victor."

Yuri wasn't really sure what it was that triggered it, but it hit him, all at once. He was scrambling from the bed, finally waking up Otabek in the process, booking it out the bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He grabbed his backpack, saw his shoes on the floor, and everything in him screamed to get out, but he tried to swallow it down. Instead, he ran into the bathroom and locked the door.

He heard a door shut, out in the living room, and figured Otabek was coming for him. The blond turned on the shower, shed his clothes, and got in.

Not even Victor, who had pretty much no boundaries, would follow him into the shower.

Even under the spray of the warm water, Yuri couldn't get his breathing under control, he couldn't get his heart rate down. He was getting angry, and he wasn't sure why.

Suddenly, vehemently, everything flooded back to him. Every little stupid thing he said and did, all his failings and his successes, hit him like a load of bricks. If he were ever to have his own kids, like twenty years in the future or so, they, at least, wouldn't remember every moment. He was horrified to think that every praise he gave Victor, from saying how beautiful he looked in the setting sun to how graceful he was when he skated,  _or_  Katsuki, from how he admired the way he got up when he fell on the ice to all the damn cuddles, would be on the forefront of his friends' minds.

As he was scrubbing the shampoo through his hair, he froze.  _Friends._

It was true. They had always been friends. Especially Victor. As much as the blond hated to admit it, because even though Victor Nikiforov was aloof, love-sick, and downright annoying, he had never been anything but supportive of Yuri. Even, and it killed him him to realize this only after the fact, when Victor told Yuri that he was going back to skating  _just before_  his free skate, so he would assume Katsudon wasn't returning.

Because it was never Victor for Yuri. Victor was a staple in the blond's life; a shining constant, even when Yuri didn't want him to be. He'd seen news footage when he returned to Russia that year. There had been a  _ton_  of it, actually. The two of them flying to and from competitions, waiting in terminals for their flights, clips of them at the rink together, out to lunch. Yuri hadn't known he could miss Victor until the man wasn't there anymore, until he was all the way on the other side of Asia, training the only person Yuri considered a contender against him.

It had always been the Japanese skater. Even when he was ranked sixth in the world, crying alone in the bathroom. It had always been Yuuri.

Part of Yuri had recognized the competitor, even when he was shaky and inconsistent.

The water hadn't turned cold, but Yuri couldn't justify spending any more time in the shower. Shutting the water off, he took his time drying off, dressing, hoping that for some unknown reason, the other three would leave the apartment, letting him slink out in his shame in peace. The worst part was that Yuri didn't know what he was ashamed of. Was he ashamed that he took advantage of the kids' trust? Did he cuddled them,  _loved them_ , because he needed it so desperately for himself? Or was he ashamed because deep down, he'd always loved his friends, but until something happened, he didn't know how to show it?

What if he couldn't remember how to show it to them now that they were old again?

When Yuri stepped out of the bathroom, he was at least grateful that nobody was sitting there, waiting for him. Victor and Katsudon were (thank the lord) dressed and sitting at the island. Otabek was poking at something in a frying pan. And nobody was saying anything.

Yuri wondered if everyone was embarrassed as he walked to the couch and dropped his backpack on the floor. Otabek had loved the kids, too. Was Katsuki just as embarrassed that he crawled in Yuri's lap as Yuri was that he let him stay there? Could Victor even  _feel_  shame?

The blond made his way back to them, pulling out the third of the four chairs at the island as slowly as he could. The two new adults were both looking at their phones, and Yuri was afraid to break the spell. He crawled into the chair as silently as he could.

"It says I have three  _hundred_  new message from Chris," Victor said, waving his phone at Yuuri. "I don't think he usually texts me that much."

"I think I'm in a fight with Phichit," Katsudon said, frantic and worried. "I told him what Otabek said, that we were on vacation and we didn't have cell service but…"

"I'm sorry."

Yuri looked down at the marble, letting his fingers dance over it. He could feel the two men looking at him, and he wanted to crawl inside himself and die. "I wasn't sure what to say to them to keep them from worrying."

"This isn't your fault, Yurio," Katusdon said. When Yuri looked up, the dark-haired man looked like he meant it, but even if he was stupid enough to believe that, it didn't make it true. "He'll come around anyway. Phichit isn't the type to hold grudges."

"Neither is Chris," Victor added, shoving his phone around Katsudon so Yuri could see it. To him, it seemed like a screen full of heart emojis. "See, he's already forgiven me."

Yuri didn't say anything, but a few seconds later, a plate was on the island, sliding toward him. It was pancakes, and Otabek had even put a little butter on the top, shaping it like a melting, dripping smiley face, and Yuri looked up. Otabek was smiling at him, and at least  _that_  was something that hadn't change.

The two men were served shortly after, and both chatted about smoothing things over with literally everyone Yuri managed to slight the past five days, but the blond couldn't focus over the rush of blood in his ears. All he could think about as he stabbed his pancakes and tried his best to eat them was that it was gone. All of it, everything. Gone.

It had been half an hour, and already, Yuri felt lost. He  _missed_  those kids. He missed his friends.

"Yura," Otabek murmured, sitting down on the last free chair of the island with his own food. He left it abandoned for a second, to brush the hair from his friend's face, forcing him to look at him. "Are you paying attention?"

He wasn't, but when Otabek turned back to his food, he tried to force himself to listen to the other two. He was an expert at drowning them out. He had a year of experience, even if they only started seeing each other regularly in September. Victor and Yuuri were talking about the book Otabek had been reading them. They had both, evidently, read it sometime after, because they were talking about the end, which Yuri only knew about from reading it through himself. It wasn't the baby talk he was used to, but it was something deeper than he would have imagined Victor to be equipped to even talk about.

"Do you remember?" Yuri found himself asking, stabbing three, four, five pieces of pancake and holding them up on his fork. "What do you remember?"

It was quiet for a long moment before Victor said, "Everything."

"Great."

"No, Yurio," Victor said. "I mean, I remember the placement of my hands when you taught me to do them better. I remember you telling me that we were going to the Olympics together."

"Well, maybe as a coach, I don't know."

"It doesn't matter," Victor said, slamming his fist on the island. Finally, Yuri looked up at him. "I didn't have anyone when I was a kid. Anyone, Yurio. But for a bit, I had  _you_."

"I…" Yuri pushed his plate back and stood up. "I need to go to practice."

He expected one of them,  _any_  of them, to stop him, but even though he felt their eyes burning in to him, nobody said anything at first. Yuri cleared his plate and went to his shoes. They still had sand in them, but his other ones would be dry by now. It wasn't like he had to come back here for anything, anyway.

The thought of going back to his apartment, alone, after practice made Yuri feel nauseous.

"Yura, we all have to go to practice in fifteen minutes," Otabek said, softly. "Do you want to wait a minute for us to get around or do you want to go on ahead?"

That was the problem, the blond thought, bitterly. He didn't know what he wanted. In the end, he sat down on the couch. He didn't face the three of them while they finished eating, but he knew that if every cell in his body was screaming for him to leave, he should probably stay. He heard them chatting, but he couldn't focus enough on them to pick out what they were saying, but he heard Otabek speaking too.

He felt betrayed for some reason, but he was pretty sure he didn't have a reason to feel that.

Even though the others had food, Makkachin jumped up on the couch by Yuri, and the blond buried his hands in the dog's fur, doing anything to take his mind off of whatever he was feeling. Makkachin whined, licked at Yuri's face, and the teenager made a disgusted noise, but he didn't do anything to move away.

It wasn't long after that when he saw them again, all walking to the door. They knelt and put on their shoes, their coats, and Yuri followed suit, locking the door behind him when they all left.

Victor and Katsudon were leading the way, talking and laughing about the same dumb shit they always had, but Otabek was silent beside him. It wasn't until the older pair got farther away that Otabek elbowed his friend and said, "You're doing good."

"No," Yuri said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"It was a statement, not a question," Otabek said. "You could have left  _twice_  and you didn't."

"It doesn't matter," Yuri said. "What was I even hanging around for? They might be grateful I didn't let them die, but that's not going to make the kids come back."

"Yura, they might be older now, but they're the same people," Otabek said. "Yuuri's always doodled cute pictures on everything and cried all the time. Victor's always been a little shit who is sometimes endearing. They've always adored you."

"I don't want to hear it," Yuri frowned.

"Fine," Otabek said, opening the door to the rink and holding it for Yuri to walk in first. The blond looked up, but Otabek's mouth was in a tight line. He hadn't meant to piss off his friend, but he was apparently burning all his bridges at once. Yuri just looked away and walked inside.

Victor was greeting everyone in Russian, like he really was just getting back from a vacation. Some of them looked surprised to see them, but Yakov wasn't one of them. Their coach had Victor by the ear, dragging him to his office while the taller man whined, wondering aloud what he did wrong. Yuri wasn't sure if Victor was that good of an actor or if he really hadn't anticipated this response (which was possible because he  _was_  an idiot) but the second the door to the office slammed, Lilia was yelling across the rink at them to stop wasting time and get on the ice.

When they did get their skates on and hit the ice, they could still hear Yakov yelling at Victor.

Lilia singled out Otabek, for some reason, with snide comment about how he wasn't getting any younger so he had best start warming up. Katusdon skated next to Yuri as the two started warming up.

"Is he always like that?" The taller man asked.

"Yakov? He yells a lot, but he's harmless. He's basically our dad," Yuri said. The blond paused for a minute, listening to the screaming. He dropped his voice, quietly translating it for the other man. "He's just questioning whether Victor was serious about coming back in the first place, if he was just going to disappear and skip practice. Which isn't fair, because it's not like it was Victor's fault that he wasn't exactly skating at senior-division level this past week."

For a second, Katsudon was quiet. When he did speak, he said, "It's not your fault either, Yuri."

Yuri groaned, and the taller man laughed.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but thanks. I  _do_  appreciate it."

"Are you done?" Yuri asked.

"For now."

Even when a silence fell over them, they remained next to each other. It wasn't synchronized; it wasn't like if Yuri lifted his leg to warm up for a jump or throw a spin then Katsudon did the same thing, but they were together. If Yuri spun and the other man got too far ahead of him, he would jump, but it went both ways. If the blond found himself half a rink ahead of the Japanese skater, he would wait up. Or, well, he knew he was waiting up, but he would stretch against the rink or adjust his skates (like they weren't already perfectly tied).

Neither of them said anything about it.

When the Yakov's door opened, Victor stepped out. Their coach slammed the door behind him, likely trying to calm himself down in his office before he started barking orders, and Victor, for all his usual bravado and charm, looked almost dazed, like he'd been slapped. He didn't look at the ice before ducking in the locker room to get his skates.

Otabek skated up to Yuri and Katsudon, already wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead. "It can't be  _that_  bad, right?"

"Less chit-chat, Altin," Lilia called. "Your footwork is sloppy on your step sequence. Do it again."

Otabek didn't argue, he just turned and took off toward Lilia, missing when Yuri said, "Damn, what is with her today?"

Katusdon shrugged. Lilia didn't like him, didn't like that Victor was his coach and his name was on their board of names to beat and it wasn't both Yuri, so she never talked to him. Which meant she never yelled at him. "Maybe because he's competing soon and your not?"

"Well, she's only here for  _me_ , you know."

Katsuki grinned, "Are you jealous that you have to share her or him?"

"Shut your face," Yuri said, but without real venom, and Katsudon laughed.

Victor skated past them on the ice, and a minute or two later, Yakov was back out, standing at the edge of the rink. He barked orders at everyone but Katsudon, but he was used to it. He and Victor had been training together with Yakov for three months, now, and it wasn't like the Japanese skater lacked work ethic. When Yakov was on Victor, the other skater couldn't help Yuuri. But the other skaters looked out for him.

Yuri had never really noticed it before. Technically, all of them were rivals. If Georgi were a decent skater and even on the same level as Yuri, it wouldn't matter that Yakov was both of their coaches. Otabek and Katsudon should be even more outsiders; they were people who trained at their rink but weren't Yakov's kids. And they were  _Yakov's_. Yuri hated Mila and Georgi and Victor, but they were his rinkmates, his siblings. They'd all grown up together, all started with Yakov when they were young.

But even if none of them were as talented as Katsudon… they all had eyes.

After a jump, Mila may pause by him for a minute, telling him that his free leg was sloppy. Georgi would push a water bottle into his hands, complimenting the spin he had just done and how it looked better than it had earlier in the practice. Even Yakov, once and a while, would shout something demeaning across the rink, something Katsudon was doing wrong, both to pick at Victor, but also help the Japanese skater get better.

Katsudon wasn't one of Yakov's kids, but… he was pretty much a son-in-law by right.

It wasn't easy for Yuri to do the same. He liked the guy well enough, but he was the  _only one_  on the ice, anywhere in the world, who had it in him to beat Yuri. And while the blond didn't want to lose, he enjoyed the thrill of the competition. He had slaughtered his junior division, so he thought he was unbeatable. When he met Katsudon, when he competed against him at the Grand Prix finals last year, Yuri's win felt all the more delicious because he actually had to put in the work and  _try_.

Without Katsudon, Yuri wouldn't be pushing himself to break records. He'd have been happy getting gold, year-after-year, with nobody ever coming close to touching him.

"Hey," Yuri slid to a stop next to the Japanese skater. "Try doing a triple with your arm raised."

Katsudon had been drinking from a bottle of water, but he coughed, swallowing wrong, leaning over the edge of the rink as he hacked up the water in his lungs. Without thinking, Yuri reached out, patting the man's back none too softly, trying to help him dislodge the water. When he finally was breathing on his own again, Katsudon's face looked horrified, but it softened when he looked at Yuri.

"I'm okay," he said, standing back up. "It's alright."

He wasn't sure what Yuri meant, but he could feel the expression on his face. He schooled his concern quickly, throwing a scowl at the man instead. "Learn how to drink, would you?"

"About the jumps, though," Katsudon said, turning around, watching the other skaters glide across the ice. "That's your thing. I wouldn't want to step on your toes."

"First of all, it isn't  _my thing_. A lot of people do it –"

"What other guy does it in competition?"

"Second of all, I just said you could try it," Yuri poked Katsudon in the chest, harder than he meant to. "I don't know if you can actually do it, asshole. It was just a suggestion."

"I'm not a beautiful skater like you are," Katsudon said, shrugging.

"If this is some backhanded ploy for me to tell you that I think you're beautiful, it isn't going to work," Yuri said, narrowing his eyes. "Try it or don't. I don't care, but don't hold yourself back because of what you think of me."

Yakov finally let Victor have a break, and Yuri went to his coach, letting himself be run through the gamut while the other skaters took a break. It was while he was setting up his step sequence that he caught a glance at the side of the ring. Katsudon did a triple with his arm raised, but it messed his spin up and he under rotated. Even though he stumbled, he didn't fall, and Victor, ever the supportive coach, complimented the effort.

Yuri grinned, even as he heard Yakov shout, "Again."

* * *

The two hour practice only ended when the coach dismissed the skaters. And after Mila and Georgi and a handful of the juniors were gone, Yakov finally said Yuri could leave. When he stepped off the ice, he noticed Katsudon was right behind him – he could come and go as he pleased because he wasn't Yakov's student – and Victor was skating toward them, too.

"Nyet, Vitya," Yakov said. "You've skipped practice for a week and you have a competition in a few days. We're leaving for Moscow the day after  _tomorrow_. You're not leaving this ice unless you're dragged off by paramedics."

Victor whined, looking over at his fiancé and whining, "Then Yuuri, you have to stay with me. As your coach, I demand it."

"Let the guy get some rest, Victor. He's not competing," Yakov said, and it almost seemed like a kind concern until he added, "You focus better when he's not at the rink anyway."

"Altin," Lilia suddenly shouted. Otabek wasn't near the opening that Yuri and Katsudon were at, but he was definitely near one of them, trying to slink off and hide while Victor was getting the attention. "You're competing then, too. It would be  _wise_  to take advantage of us now, don't you think?"

Otabek looked at Yuri, equal parts exhausted and terrified, but he went back to the ice.

Poor soul.

In the locker room, Yuri took care of his skates, but didn't put his shoes back on. His feet hurt, but it was the same dull throb as always, and when he looked over his shoulder at the Japanese skater, he had taken his socks off, but his feet weren't in view. Would this be like the first day back after a week of no skating (and thus, agony) or did this feel like any old day to him?

"You okay?"

Katsuki turned around, a surprised flush on his face but he nodded. Yuri wondered if he were lying.

"You up for a little more practice?"

"Skating?" Yuuri whined, but the blond shook his head.

"I was going to go to the ballet studio," Yuri said. "Well, not  _the_  studio, the one Lilia has here. You remember how to pirouette?"

Katsudon smiled, putting his socks back on and shoving his skates in his locker. "Yeah, but I'm probably not much better than I was when I was a kid."

"You better be," Yuri said, shutting his locker. "Or there's no way you can keep up with me."

Victor really hit the jackpot with Yuuri, the blond knew, not even half an hour into teaching him the ballet version of his free program. Victor was borderline uncoachable in the first place, Yuri would only listen if he saw some immediate, important value to it, and even Otabek was hard and unmovable at times. Katsudon trusted anyone who was teaching him, followed orders, and  _blossomed_.

Thankfully, the guy was better than the three-year-old version of himself had been, but while his body had a similar, slender build to it in his shoulders and chest, the Japanese skater was not a prima ballerina, like the blond. But he worked hard. Yuri didn't know anyone who worked as hard as Katsuki did, even himself, and even though this whole thing had literally no  _value_  for Katsudon as a skater, he listened to every piece of advice Yuri gave him, from ways to achieve the height of a jump while putting less pressure on his ankles to how to hold his hands more delicately, more beautifully.

It was an hour before Katsudon had memorized enough of it to put it to music, and watching the two of them in the mirror as they competed the program, side-by-side, was awesome in the classical sense of the word.

When the routine ended, Katsudon held the final position for a second, looking across the mirror at Yuri. The blond watched himself reach out, grip at the man's bicep and squeeze.

"Yuuri, Yuuri," Victor said, bursting in the ballet room. The blond let his hand drop, but if Victor had seen them dance, had seen someone touching his fiancé, he didn't say anything. He had Katsudon's shoes in his hands, but knew better than to sit those filthy things down in the studio,  _Yuri's_  studio. He'd already gotten screamed at once today. "We need to leave before they make us skate anymore. Please, I'm starving."

As the pair of them walked out, Yuri looked back into the mirror. Victor hadn't asked him, hadn't even looked at him. They left the door open when they were gone, but somehow, the studio looked so big and empty around him.

A second later, Otabek popped his head in. His face was red, and his hair was pulled back on the top, and he was drenched, way sweatier than he usually was. Yuri turned to face him. "What did Yakov  _do_  to you?"

"What are you waiting for?" Otabek hissed, looking back out into the hallway. "Let's go eat."

"They said…"

"C'mon, I tell him to call you by your real name and now you won't answer to it?" Otabek said. In his head, Yuri thought back to Victor's outburst. Had it been  _Yuuri, Yuri_? "Please, I think Lilia wants me dead."

Yuri smirked, but he walked out of the studio, shutting the lights off and closing the door behind him.

* * *

For some reason, Yuri felt like lunch was almost like a detention. He'd never actually  _had_  detention. He hadn't been in school since he was nine or ten, before he'd come to Yakov to train, but he had television to guide him through what he missed about a "normal" high school experience.

A lot of red solo cups, one of his friends would likely sleep with his love interest (and who would he chose to side with!?) and maybe a murder or two.

Okay, so maybe the shows weren't  _exactly_  like how a normal high school was. But still, when he slid next to Otabek in the diner's booth – Yuri on the outside, just in case the conversation turned sour and he needed to escape – he felt like, somehow, he was in trouble.

At first, the four of them studied their menus without speaking. It didn't matter. Yuri knew each of them well enough to narrow down their orders to two items. When the waiter showed up and took their orders, Yuri was almost bitter about being right.

They were silent once the guy took their menus.

To be fair, the oldest two had to catch up on social media still. Otabek wasn't playing on his phone, even though he could have. Instead, he had the paper wrapper of the straw on the table. He was moving a bit of the water from his glass to the wrapper, using the straw, watching as the crumpled paper grew. Yuri watched.

The blond wasn't sure when he moved closer to the Kazakh teen, but suddenly, they were knee-to-knee, and Otabek flinched back, closer to the wall. Yuri looked up, frowning. The teenager had never drawn away from him before. There was panic in Otabek's eyes when he looked back, but the blond held his gaze.

Softly, Otabek said, "I stink."

"What?" Yuri asked, incredulous.

"I smell, seriously so bad," Otabek said, his warm hands on Yuri's side, trying to push him away. "I  _bathed_  in deodorant after Yakov let me go, but I need at least seven showers to recover."

"Are you  _kidding me_?" Yuri demanded, trying to move closer. Otabek was pretty good at holding the younger teen away from him, never letting him closer than arm's length. "I came back home stinking of sweat and pain and you told me I smelled good."

"Victory and Old Spice," Victor said, not looking up from his phone.

"You smelled my _hair_ ," Yuri added, trying to shove himself back in Otabek's space. The people who shared their booth behind them turned, trying to see what the commotion was, but Otabek was resolute, putting his leg up. His thigh was up on bench between the two of them, like his knee digging into Yuri's leg would be enough to keep them separate. "Stop it."

" _You_  stop it," Otabek hissed, shoving Yuri away.

"Kids, please stop," Victor said, a giant asshole grin on his face. Otabek stopped actively pushing, but didn't move back to his own space. "Be kind."

"Are  _you_  joking right now?" Yuri growled at the man, but Victor just kept the smile on his face.

"At least we were well behaved," Victor said, almost in sing-song. "We never caused a scene in the middle of a meal."

Glancing around, there were a handful of people looking at them. To be fair, people did look at them quite often, especially in this neighborhood. Victor was Russia's darling, and while the locals had been used to him  _definitely_  causing a scene with his friendly inquiries for food that had fit his pre-break diet, there were always people who weren't native to Victor's stomping grounds that stopped them all the time for pictures or autographs.

But Yuri knew fame well enough to know what shy fans looked like. The people looking at them now were definitely  _not_ that. They look bewildered, like they thought the teenagers were too old to be acting like annoying kids.

And that  _one_  lady had a soft smile on her face, like she thought they were flirting or something.

Emboldened by his anger, Yuri threw out an arm, hand latching onto Otabek's thigh. The older teen flinched again, trying to pull his leg back, out of Yuri's grasp, but the blond just squeezed. When Yuri looked up at him, Otabek's face was pink. He let up the pressure a little, afraid he was hurting his friend's sore leg. "Stop being an idiot. People are looking at us."

Otabek looked up, noticed that people were watching, and blushed even further. Slowly, he started moving his leg away, and Yuri squeezed the muscle one last time before letting go, letting Otabek move to sit like a normal person again. Despite the fight, Yuri sat as close to Otabek as he justifiably could. They weren't touching, but he was definitely still in the other guy's space.

Yuri ignored the soft smile on Victor's face, watching as the scolded brats fixed their behavior, like suddenly Victor was the world's best babysitter, and instead, he turned to look out the window. Or well, he pretended he was looking out the window. It wasn't his fault that Otabek was blocking his view.

He was still a little pink, and he was back to messing with his water and straw while they waited for their food. His hair was still pulled back, and Yuri  _loved_  it like that. Don't get him wrong, he enjoyed watching it flop from side to side as the top grew and he kept the bottom shaved, but pulled back like that made him look somehow cooler, older. He was definitely sweaty, or rather, he was cooling down as the sweat had mostly evaporated, but it wasn't gross. He didn't look  _or_  smell gross.

If anything, Yuri was tempted to pull him down and put his face in his hair. He wanted to smell it  _more_.

"I'm still going home and taking a shower," Otabek mumbled, turning to Yuri to see if the blond was going to start a fight. He looked startled to see that the blond was already looking at him.

"Do whatever you want," Yuri said, not meaning for it to come out that way, to sound so petty and bitter, but he wasn't sure how to change his tone, how to fix it, and in the end, it didn't matter. Otabek just grinned. Their waiter was bringing their food.

* * *

With the exception of showers and his walks to and from practice while Otabek watched the kids, Yuri hadn't been alone in the past five days. He used to love sitting in his room alone, Potya curled up at his side, looking through social media or playing a game or reading in his down time. He used to love the silence, the soft ticking of the clock he had hanging in his bedroom but never actually used to tell time. The quiet was so  _loud_  that he was calmed by it; he didn't have to speak or think to fill in the silence.

He had only been sitting there a few minutes after splitting up with the rest of them before he had to grab his tablet and stream Pandora through the speaker he usually kept in his bathroom for showers.

Even then, it seemed so quiet.

Yuri tried to read. He tried looking through Instagram. He tried taking one of Potya's toys and playing with her. That, at least, amused the both of them for about half an hour, but she curled up by his side again and fell asleep, and Yuri was left alone.

He always used to like being alone.

He checked the time. Otabek was  _definitely_  out of the shower, but he hadn't texted him. But, to be fair, it was the first time in a long time that the older teenager had gotten to himself, too. Actually, Yuri was surprised he hadn't killed one of the three of them in the vast amounts of time they spent together.

He was even  _more_  surprised that Otabek kept coming back.

As much as he didn't want to bother Otabek, he knew he couldn't bother the lovebirds. This was their first time as adults in the better part of the week, and although Yuri  _didn't_  want to think about it, they probably needed time to themselves. Grown-ups usually did. So how was it that now that Yuri was older, he suddenly felt empty in his apartment.

When his phone buzzed, Yuri turned it over in his hand, expecting it to be a text from Otabek. Instead, Victor's stupid face flashed on his screen, one from three or four years ago after he had promised to choreograph that routine for him and promptly forgot about it. It was from when Yuri respected him as a champion, as the guy who occasionally taught him things when they skated together when Yuri was a doe-eyed junior, back when the blond had first started his junior debut. As Yuri answered the call, he vowed to change the man's contact picture.

"What?"

"I'm outside your apartment," Victor said, like that was normal, like this was a thing they just did. "Come for a walk with us."

"Us?" Yuri asked, but he was already standing up, walking to the door, putting on his shoes.

"Me and Makka," Victor said. "We did a lot of cool things with him this past week, but I think he missed me. Yuuri's taking a shower, so I thought I'd see if you wanted to join us."

"Yeah, sure," Yuri said, grabbing his coat and keys, slamming the door behind him.

When he saw Victor and the dog, Yuri hung up and pocketed the phone. For Victor being his oldest acquaintance, Yuri felt nervous walking up to him on the sidewalk. Victor had never really been a competitor to Yuri – they had trained for five years together  _before_  they would have competed, and Victor hadn't been terrible with the junior kids, even if he was self-centered – so the blond had never really felt anxious around Victor in that way.

Instead, Victor had always been like a distant, way-older brother. Yuri couldn't really relate to anything about Victor, but he still looked up to him, just a bit.

And he had always wanted to destroy him, crush his records, be better than the man everyone thought was the best Russia had to offer skating.

You know, sibling stuff.

"Yurio, are you alright?" Victor said, leaning down and patting the side of his head. The blond shrugged him off. "You look feverish."

"I'm fine," Yuri said. He wasn't sure if Victor believed him, but when they started walking, the taller man fell silent, not pressing the matter.

Even if he had known Victor the longest, they hadn't had a lot of intimate conversations, just the two of them. There had been more, lately, since Victor came back with Katsudon, but everything he could remember talking about with Victor revolved around skating.

It was the only thing he knew he had in common with Victor.

"Are you and Otabek together?" Victor asked suddenly, still looking ahead at Makkachin.

Yuri flushed, stuffing his hands in his pockets, biting at the inside of his lip. "I don't know. I guess. We've kissed."

Victor frowned, "He's a lot older than you."

"Fuck you," Yuri said, throwing out a punch to Victor's side before he could reign it in. "You and the pi – the… the…  _Katsuki_  are the  _four_  years apart, you know. Otabek and I are two and a half. I'll be seventeen in less than three months."

"But we're older."

Yuri stopped walking, and Victor did, too. "If you invited me out here to have  _the talk_  with me, I'm going back to my fucking apartment, Victor."

The taller man looked taken aback for a second, before he held the hand that wasn't holding the leash raised in surrender. That stupid grin Victor did to appease his fans came onto his face, and Yuri wanted to kick it off.

When Victor started walking again, Yuri followed. "Besides, you liked him well enough all week, the week before. Suddenly he's not good enough for you?"

"If someone isn't good enough for someone," Victor said quietly. "It isn't him not being good enough for you."

Yuri growled, but said nothing. They were at the same park they had been at before, and when Victor leaned down, unsnapping Makkachin's leash, the dog ran off toward a squirrel braving the cold.

"You're not going to defend yourself?"

"Why would I?" Yuri scoffed. "I already know it's true."

"You need to be able to defend  _everything_ ," Victor said, reaching out a hand, resting it gently on Yuri's shoulder. This time, the blond didn't pull away. "Yuuri got a lot of shit because of me. Otabek's going to get it because of you. If you can't defend your worth to me…  _me,_  Yuri, the guy whose been your wingman for the past two weeks, how can you stand up to a stadium of people who hate you and prove you deserve this? Because you do, Yuri. You deserve to be happy."

Yuri was silent. He was thinking, he really was, but the only thing he could come up with was stupid. "Can't I just tell them all to fuck off?"

"You can," Victor laughed. "You probably will. But he's not like us. He's not even like Yuuri. I'm just worried about him. I'm worried about both of you."

"Then why did it have to be him?" Yuri turned toward the taller man. Victor had a soft look on his face, but it was definitely a frown. The blond wasn't sure if he ever saw Victor look so sad when Katsudon wasn't somehow to blame for it. "Why did he have to like  _me_?"

"You can't help who you love, Yurochka," Victor said.

"Easy for you to say," Yuri said, pulling his coat tighter around himself. "You're marrying your biggest fan. Jesus, you could do any stupid thing and Katsuki's not going to leave your dumb ass."

"You've got it backwards. I think he can – has it in him, I mean – leave me for any stupid reason. Maybe I made him mad, or maybe he just got scared. It's me that won't leave," Victor shrugged. "I know you think I'm so conceited that I can't see outside myself, but if that's true, I know my weaknesses and shortcoming better than anyone. I'm forgetful. I'm insensitive at best, but I can be cruel without meaning to be. I've turned Yuuri into some beast who is obsessed with winning because he thinks it's the only way he can keep me. I think he  _still_  thinks that."

"I think he does, too," Yuri mumbled.

"But what I'm saying with all this," Victor said. "Is that you  _are_  like me, at least in that regard. You're angry and impulsive. You can snap and say things you don't mean, and you can't take back words or actions. You can  _hurt_  him. I just want you to think about it, okay?"

Yuri sighed, finally swatting Victor's hand from his shoulder. "I don't think we've talked about anything but Otabek or skating since before you were a kid again. Is there literally anything else we can talk about?"

It was silent for a long time after that. Yuri was trying to run down a list of things he knew about Victor, things they had in common, things that weren't skating or Otabek or Yuuri.

"We should watch Moana again," Victor finally said.

Yuri laughed, feeling the tension drain out of him as he stepped to the side, closer to his friend, and pushed his shoulder against Victor's arm.

A while later, Yuri walked back to Victor's apartment with him because the taller man insisted Katsuki had something he needed to give him. When he got there, he didn't even get to take off his shoes before the Japanese skater was at the door, pushing a piece of paper at him.

"What –" Yuri started, but looked down at the paper in his hands. It was the drawing of the four of them, of their old family. "I…"

"I drew it for you," Katsudon said, and when Yuri looked up, the man's face was red. "Please take it, to remember… us."

Victor smiled at Yuri, patted his back, and took off to the bathroom. Yuri looked back down at the picture, hearing the shower start.

"I…"

"I know you don't want to talk about it," Katsudon said. "I can't imagine how this must feel for you, because it's killing me. I wanted to be just like you. I wanted to be a ballerina, a beautiful skater. And even though I'm older again, I still feel like that. I still idolize you."

"If we do this right now, can we never talk about it again?" Yuri asked, looking up at the taller man.

He had tears in his eyes; Yuri could see them around his glasses as Katsudon nodded.

"Okay," Yuri said, opening his arms. "Come here, then."

Yuuri was definitely larger in his arms than he had been. There was no way Yuri could carry him on his hip, but when he hugged him, ducking slightly so he could put his face on Yuri's shoulder, it did sort of feel the same.

Yuri rubbed his back, careful not to wrinkle the picture.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you by being affectionate," Katsudon said. "I just  _trust_  you."

"You still do?" Yuri asked. "Because if anyone is going to pull a Tonya Harding…"

"Shut up," Katsudon said. "You would not."

"No. You're right, I wouldn't."

Finally, the older man pulled back, but he put his hands on Yuri's shoulders, not letting him escape just yet. "When you leave this apartment, I'll try not to bring it up again. But I meant what I said back then."

"Which time?" Yuri forced a grin. "When you said I was beautiful or when you said I smelled good?"

"When I said we were a family," Yuuri said, letting his hand fall to Yuri's forearm, drawing his attention back to the picture. "We  _are_ a family."

This time, it was Yuri who hugged the taller man. As much as he hated to admit it, his free hand balled up in the front of Katsudon's shirt, he did feel it. It wasn't exactly how he felt for his grandpa, but it was close.

* * *

This time, the silence of his apartment didn't seem so deafening. His bed was comfortable (even if it had nothing on Victor's massive, luxurious bed), Potya was by his side, and he was lost on an island of half-crazy (full-crazy?) school boys when his phone started to buzz.

Thinking it was a text, he ignored it, scrolling to the next page, reading as the boys chanted and danced around the fire, but when the buzzing continued, he looked down.

Otabek was calling.

"Yeah?" Yuri said, then winced. "I mean, hey."

"You wanna hang out?"

Yuri looked at his book. He had  _two pages_  left in chapter nine.

"Sure," he said. "Where?"

"Uh…" Otabek paused, and Yuri's eyes were drawn back to his book in the silence. "I'm outside your apartment, actually. I walked over before I remembered that since the guys aren't kids anymore, I didn't have a  _reason_  to just barge in."

"Yeah, I'll get the door," Yuri said, hearing the sound of Otabek hanging up. The blond brought his tablet with him, unlocking the door and pulling it open before leaning against the wall.

He was halfway aware of Otabek getting there, letting himself in, and shutting the door behind him, but when Yuri held up a finger, the elder teen just went further into the apartment, and Yuri stood by the door.

"Aw, fuck," Yuri said, letting the hand fall to his side, still holding the tablet, his head resting back against the wall. He looked over at his friend, who was sitting on his couch, already pulling out his laptop.

The look Otabek gave him was pure sympathy. "Was it the part at the beach where they…"

"Yeah," Yuri walked over to him, sitting next to him on the couch. "What are you doing?"

"I can entertain myself if you want to read some more," Otabek said. "I did sort of invite myself over, after all."

"Does it get any better?"

"For the kids?" Otabek pulled a face. "Sort of, I guess. But not really."

"I need a break then," Yuri sighed, which turned into a yawn. He put his tablet next to Otabek's laptop on the coffee table. Then, he stretched before curling up at Otabek's side, leaning his head against his friend's shoulder. "I need to recover."

"It looks like you need a nap."

"Yeah, right," Yuri whined. "After what I just read, I'll probably never sleep again."

Otabek chuckled, and Yuri could feel it rumble through his body. Despite what he just said, he found his eyes closing. For a long moment, Otabek didn't move. Then Yuri felt his pillow disappearing from under him as Otabek moved to wrap his arm around Yuri's shoulder. The taller man leaned back, sideways against the armrest of the couch. It took more maneuvering than Yuri would have liked, but it was worth it for where they ended: Otabek half-sitting, half-lying on the couch with an arm still around Yuri's shoulders. The blond was tucked up on his side between the back of his couch with his head on his friend's chest.

"This okay?" Otabek asked, as if Yuri hadn't flopped his head down on him the second he stopped moving for three seconds.

Instead of making a sarcastic comment, which was just behind his teeth, he let a soft sound escape his lips. "Hmm… now I'm really going to fall asleep."

"You want…" Otabek started, but he didn't finish. A second later, Yuri felt him moving  _again_ , but this time, when Otabek settled, the blanket from the back of the couch was draped over the both of them.

"Good idea," Yuri said, drawing the blanket up past his shoulder before letting his hand fall, draping it over his friend's stomach.

"I have them occasionally," the other teen said, and Yuri felt his hair being tucked behind his ear. He felt like a giant human-shaped cat, and he wondered if he ever had been happier in his life.

"What'd you do?" Yuri asked. "Before you came over, I mean."

"Called my sister."

"She have anything to say about how cute you think I am?"

Otabek huffed, "You know how I feel about you."

"Is it embarrassing?" Yuri found himself smiling, his eyes opening, and he angled his head to try and both look up at Otabek and not lose contact with his chest. It didn't work. "Having a crush on your best friend?"

"A  _crush_?" Otabek said, and he started moving, like he was trying to pry Yuri from his chest and force him to look at him, but he sounded flustered, and Yuri just patted his side, trying to calm him down. "You think that this is just –"

"It's okay, I won't tell anyone," Yuri grinned, the mindless patting of Otabek's side stopped, but his fingers still moved over him, over his shirt. Yuri settled back down, his face pressed against Otabek's chest. "I have a crush on you, too."

"You…" Otabek started, and Yuri heard him swallow. Beneath his skin, Yuri could feel Otabek's heart pounding against his face. His hand abandoned his friend's side, pressing his palm over the other teenager's heart. "You really…?"

"How can that surprise you?" Yuri asked. "You're my only friend, my best friend. It's been a year, and no matter what stupid shit I do, you haven't left me yet. I  _kissed_  you, Beka. Of course I have a crush on you."

"Well, then…" Otabek started, and Yuri smiled, hearing his voice shake. Half of him wanted to be  _good_  and stay lying down, let Otabek have his embarrassment to himself. But Yuri wasn't nice, and he pushed himself up on his elbow so he could look down at his friend. He tried to not put too much weight on Otabek's chest, but he refused to move his hand. His heart was just beating  _so fast_. Otabek's face was red, and his eyebrows were up. He looked like he was going for bravado, a more sure-of-himself look, but he was failing miserably and it was just  _so cute_. "Then, should we… you know. Like date?"

"You want to date me?"

"Well, yeah," Otabek said, the hand not around Yuri's shoulder coming to rest at Yuri's hip. Yuri grinned. The hand was  _shaking_. "Only since I met you."

Yuri felt himself growing pink, but he forced a frown. "I'm not a nice person. I'm going to get us into trouble sooner or later."

"I know," Otabek said. "You already do."

"It could be  _big_  trouble, Beka. What if I kiss you and someone takes a picture and it ends up on the Internet?" The frown wasn't forced anymore. His hand wasn't resting over Otabek's chest, enjoying his panic anymore. It was gripped in his shirt. "You could lose sponsors. Remember when Johnny Weir was my age…"

"If I lost sponsors, then they're the wrong fucking sponsors for me, Yuri," Otabek said. Suddenly, he looked more resolute, less afraid than he had before. "They're in the wrong fucking sport."

Yuri huffed out a laugh, trying to relax his hand. He wanted to lower himself back down, take his nap draped over his friend, but now that Otabek had a hand on his hip, he was being held up, at least to some extent. "I don't want you getting hurt because of me."

"You're not  _that_  violent."

"Not get hurt  _by_  me.  _Because_  of me," Yuri growled, but Otabek was smiling. It only made Yuri angrier that he wasn't taking this seriously. "How long before someone says something and I punch someone I shouldn't? How long until I grow up and I'm not cute anymore? How long until I'm not winning anymore? I don't even  _deserve_  someone like you, and I don't want you to realize in five or ten years that you wasted all this time with someone like me."

The grin on Otabek's face was softer, more of a face-splitting smile, and Yuri frowned at him. His hand left Yuri's hip, brushing the hair out of his face, and Yuri couldn't think what part of his argument backfired so spectacularly that  _this_ was Otabek's response.

"So you don't want to date me?" Otabek's smile looked  _stupid_  and Yuri wanted to kiss him to wipe it off. "You really wanted me to ask you to marry me?"

" _What?"_

"You don't want me to leave you… in five or ten years. That means you want me to stay forever. You want to  _marry me_."

"I…" Yuri was on  _fire_. With his hip free, he lowered himself back to the couch, but Otabek caught his shoulder, not letting him escape. "Shut up."

"Is it embarrassing?" Otabek asked, shooting Yuri's words back at him. "Wanting to  _marry_  your best friend?"

"Otabek, I mean it," Yuri said, nearly in tears with his shame. The taller teen just let out a small laugh, sitting up enough to kiss him. Yuri wanted to pull away, wanted to run out of the apartment and  _escape_ , but at least Otabek wasn't looking at him anymore. So Yuri put his arm back down, holding himself back up, hovering over his friend, kissing him.

When Otabek rested back against the couch, Yuri tried to follow him, distract him, make him forget what they had been talking about, but Otabek just smiled, holding the younger teen back.

"I won't tell anyone," Otabek whispered, shutting his eyes, still smiling. "I don't want  _you_  to leave in five or ten years, either. So I guess that means I want to marry you, too, someday."

"Can we please  _stop_?" Yuri groaned. "Can't we kiss and agree to date and not ever talk about it again?"

Otabek opened his eyes. "Not ever?"

"Not for…" Yuri did the math in his head. Katsudon had been twenty-four. That seemed like a reasonable age. "Eight years."

"Four," Otabek countered.

"I'll be  _twenty_ ," Yuri cried. "I couldn't even drink if I was competing at Skate America."

"But in eight years, I'll be an old man," Otabek whined. "I'll be  _Victor's_ age."

Yuri laughed, pushing himself up to his knees. He had to straddle Otabek's thighs to reach out for his phone, but he wasn't trying to  _do_  anything, so he didn't look down at his friend. "Fine. In five years, we have one conversation about it. I'll set a reminder on my phone so we don't forget. Just to see if we still feel the same way. And we don't  _have_  to get married then, either."

"No, of course not," Otabek said. From his periphery, Yuri saw Otabek sit up, too. On his knees, the blond was several inches taller, and when Otabek wrapped his arms around Yuri's waist, pressing his face against his chest in a tight hug, the blond used his free hand to rest on the back of Otabek's head. "I don't care if we ever get married. I don't care if we're dating or not. As long as I have you by my side."

"Then we'd be dating, idiot," Yuri chuckled, setting the reminder, but couldn't lean far enough away from Otabek to put his phone back down. "I think when two people spend a significant amount of time kissing each other, it doesn't matter if they call it dating or not. They still are."

Otabek murmured something into Yuri's shirt that the blond didn't catch. Tired of trying to lean over to set his phone down, the blond tossed it. The  _thump_  on the coffee table was loud, but it landed face-up, so no damage to the screen. Yuri put both his hands on the back of his friend's head, playing with his hair.

"What was that?"

"I said," Otabek pulled back, looking up at Yuri. He wasn't grinning anymore, but he still looked happy.  _"So are we dating, or not?"_

Yuri laughed, leaning down to kiss him. He felt Otabek's fingers digging into his back through his shirt, and when the blond pulled back, the elder teen was smiling again.

"Yeah, sure," Yuri said. "Can we take that nap, now?"

Otabek let go of his friend, flopping back dramatically. He didn't look like Victor when he did it; he looked far more sarcastic, like he was somehow making fun of Victor without meaning to. "I just declare my feelings for my best friend, we decide to start dating, and  _you_  want a nap? You're unbelievable. You wound me."

He didn't complain, though, when Yuri snuggled back into his side, resting his head back on Otabek's chest, his fingers going back to his side. Instead, the elder teen fixed their blanket, wrapping his arm around Yuri's shoulder. He wasn't  _keeping_  him there. Yuri knew he could leave if he wanted, but he'd have to be a fucking moron to want to leave Otabek's side.

Yuri waited until they were comfortable, until Otabek couldn't see his face until he asked, "You're okay, though, right?"

"I'm perfect," Otabek said, squeezing Yuri tighter just for a second. The other teen sounded as tired as Yuri felt. "Never better. You?"

Yuri snuggled down, closing his eyes. "I'm happy. I'm, like, really fucking happy."

He felt Otabek's chest rumble with his chuckle and felt his  _boyfriend's_  hand in his hair again. "Good."

* * *

It didn't matter how fantastic the nap, Yuri always woke up feeling disoriented, like he was late for practice and forgot to set an alarm. Opening his eyes to the sound of someone banging on the front door, with a hard (but freaking amazing) chest as his pillow, and the arm that was underneath him asleep just made him grump.

"What?" He yelled, feeling Otabek stir underneath him.

The front door opened, and Yuri opened his eyes to glare at the intruders. Victor and Katsudon froze, and Otabek was suddenly very much awake and trying to get out from under him, but Yuri just gripped at his side, trying to keep him from moving.

" _What?"_  He said again, and both Victor and Katsudon held up their hands in mock-surrender.

"We didn't mean to wake up you," Victor said. "We tried texting you…"

"… and Otabek…"

"And when you didn't answer, we thought maybe you got hurt," Victor finished. "We wanted to check up on you."

Yuri finally sat up, running a hand through his hair. The second Otabek was free, he shot upright and sat quietly on the other side of the couch like he'd done something wrong, like Yuri's parents had caught them making out. Yuri threw an incredulous look at the teenager, before turning back to his friends.

"You fucking  _liars,_ " Yuri said, turning red. "You thought we were... just because the two of you  _fuck like rabbits_ doesn't mean that's the only thing everyone else in the world thinks about, goddamn."

"It's just that," Victor was saying, but he wasn't even looking at Yuri. He was looking  _past_  him. "You're sixteen, Yuri."

"Fuck you."

"I know," Otabek said, and the blond wanted to hit him.

"We literally started dating like," Yuri checked his clock, "Two hours ago. Can we seriously not do this now? Or never? I vote for never."

They were quiet for a long moment. Yuri was still yawning, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, swearing to never look at any of them again. Potya jumped up on the couch beside him, and he patted her a few times, trying to wake up more so he could leave. His mind was still sluggish, still reeling from the insinuation, but anything he said now would just be swearing and anger, so he kept quiet.

"Fine," Victor said. " _Not now_ , Yurio. But in the meantime, you want dinner? I can get a pizza. My treat."

Yuri rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Victor probably owed him a few meals, at the very least. And pizza was a rarity. Katsudon looked at Victor like he was being tested, but fuck Victor. Let the guy eat some pizza every once and a while. "Yeah, okay."

Victor went back into the hallway, and Yuri could hear him ordering in Russian. With a sigh, Yuri stood up. Otabek was still sitting like stone at the edge of the couch and when he walked by, he made sure to run his hand over Otabek's arm. It only made the elder teen tense up, and Yuri shot a glare at Katsudon, hoping he could understand the  _this is your fault_  look.

The Japanese man just shrugged, but he took off his shoes at the door, following Yuri to the kitchen. The blond poured them both water from a pitcher in the refrigerator. Yuri was dying of thirst, but the taller man just sipped it. "Hey," he said, pointing at the fridge. "You hung it up?"

"Duh," Yuri said. "My friend made me that."

Yuuri smiled for the first time since walking into the apartment.

Victor poked his head back in, waving at the two in the kitchen. "They said twenty minutes, so I'll go pick it up and bring it back. You want anything else?"

Yuri wanted to demand a bunch of stupid things. Chocolate, soda, alcohol. But instead, he raised his glass back to his lips and shook his head. Katsudon did the same, shrugging off his coat and draping it over one of the kitchen chairs.

"What are you wearing?" Yuri asked, and Katsudon froze, looking down at himself. It was a dark purple button up, and it wasn't that it looked  _bad_  or anything, but it looked nicer than anything Yuri would have expected him to own, much less wear to go hang out and threaten a guy in his own apartment.

"Beka, you wanna come with me?" Victor asked.

The elder teen nodded, walked silently to the door. He had his shoes and coat on in record time, but when he left, he looked more like a criminal walking to the gallows that a guy going to get pizza with his friend.

"Wait," Yuri said, about thirty seconds after they shut the door. "He's going to  _talk_  to Beka, isn't he?"

"Yuri…"

"You  _tricked me_  with  _pizza_ , Katsuki? We're supposed to be friends."

"It wasn't  _my_  idea," the guy said. "I swear. I remember being sixteen, and granted, I was probably nothing like you, but I was so focused on training I never even tried kissing someone until I was in college."

"Unbelievable."

"He just doesn't want Otabek getting you  _or himself_  in any trouble."

"Un-fucking-believable," Yuri said, still looking at the door. The rage from before was gone, though, and he couldn't help it when the corners of his mouth quirked upward. "He looked terrified."

"Victor was terrified when Mari threatened him," Katsudon said, laughing. "I thought he was going to puke. Still, it's better that it's Victor, isn't it? Can you imagine if it were your grandpa?"

"God, no," Yuri laughed. "I'd die."

"He's just looking out for you," Yuuri said.

"Yeah, I know," Yuri said. "Hey, you wanna play a game while we wait?" When the taller man nodded, Yuri led them back to the living room.

He had a small TV, and he put in a racing game. It wasn't the type he usually liked, but they had twenty minutes to kill, so marathoning some online game couldn't happen. He handed one of the controllers to Katsudon before sitting back on the couch himself.

"Do you think he's threatening Beka bad?" Yuri asked, tucking his feet underneath him. "Like, hurt him and I'll kill you?"

"Probably more like  _touch him_  and I'll kill you," Katsudon said. "Or, well, on the way over, he told me he was going to say if Otabek even looked at you wrong, he was going to kill him. I feel bad for him, actually. He's a nice guy, and Victor knows that. But it's still kind of funny, don't you think? Otabek just somberly listening as Victor threatens him."

"He's probably going to say something embarrassing," Yuri agreed. "Like 'I'd gut  _myself_  with my own shoes if I hurt him, Vitya. You wouldn't have to, I promise.' Idiot."

Katsudon laughed, but it quickly died away. "He was sure we were going to walk in to find you… well…"

"Stupid," Yuri muttered.

"I'm supposed to be doing the same," Yuuri said. "Threatening you, I mean. 'Think of your future. Think of Otabek's future. Be nice to him. He's a good guy.' All that stuff."

"You're doing a shit job of it."

Yuuri grinned. "Well, I'd have fucked Victor if he just magically showed up in my life at sixteen, so…"

"You're so  _disgusting_ ," Yuri said, throwing his head back against the couch. "I hate you so much."

"We're friends now," Katsudon said. "We can talk about this stuff."

"No, we can't. I'm just a kid and I  _don't want to hear about it_."

"See," Yuuri said, grinning. "That's why I don't need to threaten you. What are you going to do? Get caught holding hands with Otabek? Didn't we just have to stop you two from fighting in a restaurant just this morning? It's not going to be like the time at Cup of China when JJ caught me and Victor –"

"So fucking gross," Yuri said, starting a race before the older skater could say anything more.

Katsudon clearly didn't spend his childhood playing games, but it was okay. They weren't really playing for points, and they weren't online, so it was fun enough to bump into the NPCs and each other. By the time the other two returned with dinner, Katsuki was just starting to get the hang of it. Both of them looked away from the screen when Victor threw open the door, pizza in one hand, announcing they've returned.

Otabek slunk in after, his face pale, but his cheeks, nose, and ears red from the cold. He looked over at Yuri and the cold gave way to a blush, and as he shut the door behind him, Yuri couldn't help but notice Otabek looked different. As the elder teen was taking off his shoes, the blond went to his friend. A glance behind him showed Victor and Katsudon were busy with the pizza, and when Otabek stood back up, Yuri reached out, gripping his forearm.

Otabek tensed, briefly, but didn't pull away.

"You okay?"

"No," Otabek hissed, the same way he had when he was scared Lilia was still lurking around, looking for him after practice. "I know too many things now. I have to leave. I'm going to stab my ears out and live in a cave in the mountains."

"Yeah, Katusdon was gross, too," Yuri said, and Otabek visibly shuttered.

"Okay, you two," Victor called from the kitchen. "Get your food."

At least, Yuri thought, they weren't so disgusted that they couldn't eat. That was something.

* * *

After dinner, Victor checked his phone for the time and said, "We should go out."

"Go ahead and leave," Yuri said. "Nobody's stopping you."

"No, all of us," Victor said. "As I seem to recall, you left us  _alone_  in the apartment to go out with Otabek the first night, so you owe us a night out."

"No, I don't."

Otabek choked on his drink.

"You should have taken us with you," Victor whined.

"Oh yeah, that's freaking great. I'd really have gotten babysitter of the year for taking you to a  _bar_  with me."

"They were already kids?" Otabek said, like  _he_  had been the one who left them alone to go hang out at a bar. "You left them alone to go out with me?"

"They were  _sleeping_  when I left," Yuri said. "Don't you two even turn this around on me. I learned my lesson, okay? I never left them alone again."

Otabek frowned, but Katsudon nodded. Victor just slapped his hand on the table. "C'mon, I haven't had a drink in like, five days."

"If you're missing it that much, you may have a problem," Yuri shot back, but Victor wasn't having it.

"What else do you have to do tonight?" Victor asked, waving a hand at the two of them. "Read? Make mixes? I'll buy the first round."

"You better buy  _all_  the rounds," Yuri grumbled, but he stood up.

"See, that's the spirit. Go change, and then we'll leave."

"Change?" He looked down at himself, then over at Otabek. "What's wrong with what we have on?"

"Nothing, you look like very nice hobos. But you can't wear that in  _public_ , to a  _club,_ " Victor said, sounding scandalized.

"What's the point?" Otabek said. "We're not exactly looking to pick anyone up."

"Have some  _pride,_ " Victor fake-gasped, putting his hand over his heart. "Have some self-respect. People shouldn't dress up because they want to go find love. They should dress up and have fun because they love themselves."

"You're an inspiration to teenagers everywhere," Yuri deadpanned, but he walked to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, leaving Otabek to fight off Victor by himself.

At least Katsudon's get-up made more sense now. Traitor. They'd planned this from the start.

Yuri took off his shirt, reaching for the  _Madness_  shirt, just to piss Victor off. He put the white jacket over it, buttoning it up until the other shirt was hidden. He changed into some slacks, too. The blond was pretty sure he had some white, light-up shoes somewhere, because that would  _really_ piss Victor off, but he couldn't find them after digging in the closet for a second, so he just figured his sneakers were okay.

When he left his bedroom, Otabek and Victor were on the floor, a tangle of limbs around Otabek's messenger bag. Yuri looked at Katsudon, but he just shrugged. "He didn't believe that Otabek would come over and  _not_  bring something he could wear out."

"Why would I?" Otabek yelled. "I came over to hang out."

"Then why won't you let me look?" Victor snapped back.

"I had  _five_  days to go through every ounce of shit you have in your house and I didn't," Otabek said, getting an elbow between Victor and himself, prying the other man away. "I told you we could stop by my apartment. I'll change, but I don't have anything in here."

"You could see if I have anything that fits," Yuri said, pointing his thumb back toward his bedroom. Victor jumped at the opportunity to go through Yuri's closet, and blew past him, leaving Otabek growling on the living room floor.

"You should have just shown him," Yuri said. "It would have been easier."

"He doesn't need to look through all my shit," Otabek said, standing up, untwisting his shirt from around his stomach.

"You're making it seem like you've got something worth seeing in there," Yuri grinned. "Can I look through all your shit?"

Otabek looked at Katsuki, but the Japanese skater still had his arms crossed over his chest, smiling. The teenager said, "Later."

"Beka," Victor called in sing-song, "I found something for you."

Otabek grumbled as he walked past Yuri, into the bedroom. Most of it, the blond didn't catch, but there was something about  _'Don't you 'Beka' me after…'_  before he disappeared. This time, Yuri followed them in.

Yuri would never understand Victor Nikiforov. The man had just cautioned them to not rush into anything, had given Otabek  _the talk_ , but then here he was, holding out that tiger shirt, the one he bought in Hasetsu after he bought the hoodie and had to go back for the matching shirt, and Victor  _knew_  that Yuri loved that shirt. The man wa grinning as Otabek ripped his own shirt off over his head. Jesus Christ, Victor was going to be the death of them.

The blond forgot all about the shirt because this was Otabek's naked back, and Yuri wanted to move, wanted to get a better angle, wanted his hands all over the muscles, but Otabek was throwing the t-shirt on before any of neurons on Yuri's brain started firing again.

It didn't fit.

"It doesn't fit, Victor," Otabek said, tugging it lower. It was  _long enough_ , but even if the last time he'd warn it, it was still baggy on him, their bodies didn't exactly have the same shape. It looked like if Otabek flexed, he would hulk out of the shirt and it would be in ruins on the floor. Yuri didn't care if he had to travel back to Japan to replace that shirt.

"Yes, it does," Yuri found himself saying. Apparently, his brain wasn't fully online yet. "It's fine, can we leave now?"

They still had to stop by Otabek's apartment for pants and a jacket, and even though Yuri had every intention of following him up, Katsudon insisted he would be faster if they all waited outside, so outside they waited. Otabek came back down a few minutes later, in slacks and a nice jacket, not dissimilar from Victor's, but Yuri could see he left the tiger shirt on underneath it.

While Victor was hailing a cab, Yuri hung back with Otabek, bumping his shoulder against the other teenager's. "When we go to Japan for the GPF, I'll get you one that fits you."

"I thought you said  _this_  fits me," Otabek muttered, but he knocked his shoulder back.

"I'm weak," Yuri said. "Sorry."

"You owe me."

Yuri had no idea what he could do to pay him back, but his heart sped up thinking about it. Victor sat in the front of the cab and the other three piled in back. The ride was short, and Victor paid. It was kind of early for the club scene to really happen, or at least, Yuri assumed, from movies. He'd only ever been the once, after the GPF last year, looking for Otabek.

The blond was the only one whose ID they checked at the door. He wasn't sure if they didn't recognize his name or didn't care for the sport, because they didn't say anything, letting the four of them in.

Even for how early it was in the evening, it was loud. Yuri was surprised he didn't hear it a mile down the street. It was nothing like the bar Otabek had taken him to the week before. It wasn't cozy and intimate, with people talking over the band. People were talking, sure, but near the DJ, on the dance floor, they practically had to scream to be heard. It was dark, except the stupid lights that were flashing all around them, and even as Victor cleared a path for them to the bar, Yuri felt like there were too many people around.

Near the bar, it was quieter. When the bartender turned to Victor, he skipped three or four other people who had been waiting to be served in order to greet him, both of his hands wrapped around Victor's, but Yuri could hear him, and he wasn't screaming. In Russian, he said,  _"Wow, long time, no see."_

Victor responded, but the blond looked around, ignoring the others until he heard his name. When he turned around, Katsudon was still standing up, but Victor and Otabek had both taken seats at the bar.

"Can we get three shots for us and for Yurio…" Victor's hand was suddenly on his shoulder, drawing him closer to the bar. "What's the strongest you can legally give him?"

"Legally?" The bartender said, grinning at the blond. He got out four small plastic shot glasses. He poured three of them full, but hovered over the fourth. "He's a national icon, Vitya. Grand Prix champion at fifteen."

Victor looked Yuri, sizing him up, then turned back to the bartender. "You could lose your license."

The bartender was past Victor, though, holding out his hands to the blond. Yuri reached out, despite the fact he felt he should be far away from the bar, and the man shook his hand. His hands were sweaty and warm, but he was different than his usual Angels, and he looked so  _happy_  to break the rules for him. "It's really an honor," the man said, shooting a timid glance at Katsuki. "I mean, for country, right?"

"No hard feelings," Katsudon said, waving a hand. He slid the beer closer to him, taking the plastic shot in his hand. "He was better than me last year. This year, through…"

"Fuck you," Yuri said, but he was grinning. "I'll destroy you again."

"One shot," Victor said. "He's family to me. I don't want to see him sick."

When Yuri took the drink in his hand, he knew that the elder man was looking at him – him  _and_  Otabek – but the other teen took his shot quickly, efficiently, and grimaced, drinking a sip of his beer. Yuri tried to do the same, but unlike Victor, he hadn't recently spent the past year free from a strict diet where he was allowed to eat and drink his way across the continents. And he'd never taken a shot before, so he could barely hold the repulsion back. To be honest, his chaser was nearly just as disgusting. Victor slapped him on the back, but his laugh was light, beautiful in a way that Yuri had never noticed before. When he looked back at the elder man, he looked proud.

And Victor had been proud of him before. Yuri knew the man held no ill-will that he broke his short program record; he  _knew_  Victor considered that a compliment, because he had been the choreographer. Even though he had beat Victor's beloved Yuuri, the man was still one of Yakov's. They were brothers, in a way, and Yuri knew Victor had been proud of him. But this was pride too, and more than the alcohol hitting in his gut, spreading through his veins, he felt warm with Victor being proud of him.

For a while, they chatted at the bar. It was obvious to Yuri that Victor wanted Katsudon to relax, because as the guy drank, Victor gave small, subtle praises to get him to drink  _faster_. Yuri remembered how the Japanese man reacted to alcohol, and if Victor was going to be the devil on his shoulder, the blond was resolute about being the good guy, the one who kept his friend from stripping and embarrassing himself.

When the second round of shots came out (and Victor didn't tell the bartender to cool it about the underage kid in their midsts), the blond realized he was a lot weaker than he ever thought he was before.

They had taken at least a million pictures until Victor got one he liked enough to put on the internet. Over Otabek's shoulder, he watched as the page refreshed and Otabek clicked the red heart. Victor laughed.

Drunker than he'd been before, there was  _so much_ he wanted to do. He was drawn to the dance floor, back where the music was pounding and the lights were flashing dangerously. There were people dancing – mostly girls, sure – but Yuri had never been one to be held back because no dudes were doing the same thing he wanted to. He was itching to dance, but as Otabek tipped his head back, taking his shot, Yuri was drawn to his neck and for some reason, he wanted to  _bite_. He wanted to crawl on top of Otabek, teeth and lips and friction, fuck who else could be watching.

A guy bumped into him, and Yuri wanted to punch him. How could he want to dance, want to fight, and want to love on his boyfriend all at the same time?

By the time he finished the drink Victor had given him, Yuri was buzzing with the need to do  _something_  other than stand there and talk. The Japanese skater had been fed drinks at an alarming rate, and when Yuri leaned past Otabek, setting his drink on the bar and kissing the top of his head, Katsuki was already grabbing at his arm, dragging him to the dance floor. Victor was laughing, and somewhere, Yuri remembered Katsudon dragging him to the dance offs after the Grand Prix series, but this didn't feel like that.

It wasn't going to be a competition tonight.

And when the two of them moved on the floor, despite the lights, despite the loud music pounding through Yuri's whole body, despite the fact that Katsudon was taller than him, it almost felt like the two of them were back in Victor's kitchen, swaying back and forth while Yuri cooked lunch for the kid.

It was easy in a way it had never been before.

Yuri knew he was making a fool of himself, knew that Katsuki was, too, but he didn't care. They danced for a while by themselves, stopping every so often when one of them burst out laughing and had to grab the other for support. A while later, when Yuri felt a hand on his bicep, he almost turned around and threw his arms around Otabek – because who else would touch him like that? – but was surprised to see a girl about his height, pulling away like he had somehow startled her.

"It's my friend's birthday," she yelled over the music, leaning closer. Yuri felt Yuuri lean closer, practically draping himself over the shorter teenager's back to hear the girl. "You're the only guys out here. Would you dance with her? It would make her so happy."

Yuri found himself nodding, but he heard the other man ask, "Does she want us to sing happy birthday?"

The blond laughed, shaking his head, translating the Russian for his friend. The girl smiled, too, and offered, in English, "Sorry." To be honest, Yuri wasn't sure which one of them were leading the way – behind him, Katsudon was pushing, but it wasn't like the blond wasn't already walking to the group of girls nearby.

One had a sash across her that said  _Happy 18_ _th_ _Birthday_  but she must have been out with her older friends, because they all looked pretty drunk. Some of them had to be in their twenties, and he felt the man behind him tense the closer they got. The girl who had asked them to dance said something to the girls, and they cheered. Two of them ran off to the bar – Yuri watched them, standing pretty close to Victor and Otabek – but the song changed and the girls started moving, and so Yuri started dancing, too.

When the girls from the bar came back with a round of shots, the eight of them took them together. Yuri only realized  _after_  the fact, that he probably shouldn't drink things strangers offered him at a club. Especially if he was supposed to be the good one keeping Katsuki from embarrassing himself.

Not long after that, Yuri didn't really give a shit how embarrassing either of them were being. It was a million degrees on the dance floor, and he left them long enough to go back to the bar, take off his jacket and drape it over the back of Otabek's chair before running back.

Yuuri tugged at the bottom of the shirt, spreading it out, looking at how it exposed the blond's back. He laughed, leaned forward, and yelled, "I give Beka ten minutes."

"What?" Yuri asked, but the Japanese man laughed, and was dragged away by some of the girls again.

The birthday girl was getting handsy herself, but the blond wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about it. He hadn't noticed when they were dancing before, but now, with his back exposed, he could feel her warm hands on his skin. It wasn't bugging him or anything, because they were dancing together and Yuri had one of her hands in his, and he was touching her side, too, albeit over her clothes. But even as they laughed and moved, he couldn't help but wish it was someone else.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, and felt the warmth of someone pressing up against his back, the blond tried to turn around, but he was pretty much being held in place.

" _Izvinee,"_  Otabek said, "Can I steal him?"

Yuri tried to turn around again, but Otabek still didn't move. The blond heard himself make a whining sound, dropping the girl and trying to reach behind him to grab Otabek. The girl was still smiling, nodding, her hands slipping from Yuri, but when the blond saw her look back at him, the look on her face was different, somehow, but Yuri didn't think about it long before Otabek finally let the younger teen turn to face him.

Yuri was about to throw his arms around the guy's shoulders, but he noticed Otabek had taken off his jacket to. Instead, he put both of his hands on his friend's biceps, slipping his fingers underneath the sleeves of the shirt, moving closer into his personal space. "You came to dance?"

Otabek didn't answer, except to put his hands on Yuri's back, his fingers purposefully finding the holes in his shirt, digging into his skin.

Behind him, he heard a startled cry and he turned his head in time to see Victor practically jumping into Katsudon's arms, gathering him up in a hug before changing into a more formal dancing style. Yuri laughed, watching Victor tango his fiancé away from the girls, but he felt Otabek's fingers dig into his back harder, and he turned to look back at his boyfriend.

"You look nice in that," Otabek said, moving closer to yell over the music.

"Nice?"

"Good," Otabek shook his head, frowning. "Really good."

"Not cute?"

Otabek laughed. His cheeks were pink, probably from the alcohol, and Yuri wanted to kiss him. "Cute is definitely not the right word for it."

"Hey!"

Yuri looked over. Victor and Katsudon were back now that the girls had cleared out to the bar, and the Japanese man looked somehow drunker now that he was in Victor's arms. "I was wrong. It wasn't ten minutes. It wasn't even a full  _song_. Definitely less than five."

This time, Yuri laughed.

* * *

Later, at the bar, Yuri declined to take a shot. He was already uncomfortably warm and his head was swimming. Otabek didn't either, but he was pretty sure that Victor and Otabek had been drinking while they had danced earlier, because once Otabek got his hands on Yuri, he hadn't really stopped touching him since.

The blond was definitely not complaining about that.

They took a picture, and Yuri really hoped he looked more put-together than he felt. Victor and Katsudon were chatting with the bartender and Otabek tugged the blond closer. Yuri practically tripped over top of his knee, but when he managed to righten himself again, he was between Otabek's legs, leaning back against one of them, his fingers at his boyfriend's stomach, grinning stupidly up at him like had managed to squeak out enough of a rotation to get points for a quad instead of just remaining upright at a bar.

Just behind Otabek, Yuri saw a new group of people walk up to the bar, but he pushed his thumbs against Otabek's stomach, feeling his abs in that ridiculous shirt, before learning in, aiming to kiss him.

"Are you kidding?" One of the guys next to them said. "If you're going to make out, can't you get out of the way of the bar?"

Somewhere, in his head, Yuri knew the request wasn't even unreasonable. He felt Otabek move closer to him, like he was trying to leave the bar stool, but Yuri bristled, refusing to move. He was just about to say something when the guy turned to look at them. The blond had never been looked over like  _that_  before, and he felt his jaw clench.

"Unless you wanted to leave that loser and come over here, baby," the guy grinned. His friends were howling with laughter, and Yuri was already trying to get around Otabek, but his boyfriend's hands were holding him too tightly around the waist.

"Fuck you," Yuri spat.

"Oh wow," the guy said, his eyebrows up. "The pussycat's a boy. Give us a spin, then, sweetheart."

Yuri lunged, but Otabek held him. The guys around the loudmouth let out a sound, before they started laughing. Yuri tried going for them again, but then he felt Victor's hand on his shoulder, and heard him say, "He's a  _kid_ , you asshole."

"He doesn't  _look_  like a kid," the guy sneered. "C'mon, grandpa, let him have some fun."

"He's taken," Otabek said, and if Yuri weren't as drunk as he was, he knew the dull throbbing of pain he felt from Otabek's fingers would fucking  _hurt_ , but he was too drunk, too angry to be mad that his boyfriend was holding him too tight. "So move along."

"If you mean by you, he can do better," the guy said. The fucking douches behind him laughed. Otabek's hold on Yuri's side loosened, just slightly. "Let's get out of here, honey, and I can show you how a real man could please you."

Otabek let go. He tried moving Yuri to the side, to stand up and defend himself, maybe, but he never got the chance. The second he was free, the second Otabek was standing behind him, Yuri struck. He'd never punched someone in the face before – he'd always been a kicker – but the second his fist made contact, it was like punching ice. When he drew his hand back, he was surprised at the pain, but the guy recovered quickly.

He took a swing, but if nothing else, Yuri was fast. He ducked the wide swing, and despite the fact that his hand was on fire, he made another fist. This time, it sank into the guy's gut. He doubled over, and Yuri had a hand in his hair, ready to knee him in the face when he felt arms around his stomach, pulling him back.

"Beka, help me," Katsuki was yelling, sounding terrified. Yuri tried to lunge again, but the guy was doubled over, one hand on his stomach, the other on his face. The blond flailed, tried to break free, but then Otabek had his right arm in his hand, the other hand at Yuri's hip, and he started pulling Yuri to the exit. Yuri tried to break out of it, but Katsudon switched his grip, holding Yuri's other arm, and together, they were pretty efficient at dragging him from the club.

Victor quickly settled up the bill with the bartender. Yuri fought against Otabek, still spitting and swearing back at the man, but between Otabek and Katsudon, they were able to keep the teenager from breaking lose and rushing back at the guy. The bouncer was between them now anyway, and Victor grabbed all of their coats and jackets, laughing as they dragged the blond out of the club.

Once they were out in the cool night's air, Yuri turned away from the club and felt Katsuki let go of him. Otabek still had an arm around his middle, but a second later, Yuri felt his back hit against the brick wall. His first thought was that the guy had followed them from the club, and Yuri tried to raise his hands to defend himself, but he felt Otabek pushing up against him, pinning him to the wall, and before Yuri could say anything, the older teen was kissing him.

The blond was certainly no expert on kissing, but this was different than all the other times. Even when they made out while the kids were taking a bath yesterday. Otabek tasted like beer, and it was wild, frantic, like if they didn't kiss right now, there would never be another time. Yuri was still on edge from the fight, and so he pushed back, wrapping an arm around Otabek's shoulder to hold him there, trying to somehow get even closer to him.

Yuri didn't think they kissed for long before Otabek was pulling way. Or, rather, Victor was pulling Otabek away, and the taller man said, "Wow, Yurio, you're right. That's disgusting from the other side."

Yuri tried to jump around Otabek, intending on hitting Victor too, but he lost interest in fighting his friend once he only managed to throw himself flush against his boyfriend.

Otabek stepped back, running a hand through his hair. He still had a hand on Yuri's hip, but when his hand left his hair, Yuri noticed it was shaking.

The younger teen was sure they were going to be going back to their own apartments, but instead of hailing a cab, Victor started leading them down the street, away from the club. The street was too narrow to fit all of them, but Yuri didn't mind following behind, watching as Victor and Yuuri swung their linked hands lazily, like they hadn't just almost been in a bar brawl. The Japanese man was obviously still drunk, even if he wasn't actively stumbling, he couldn't seem to walk in a straight line, swaying closer to Victor until they bumped into each other and back up, only to be drawn close to him again.

He'd seemed so sober when he was dragging Yuri from the club.

For some reason, Yuri wanted to follow them home, just to make sure Victor didn't take advantage of Katsuki. But then he remembered the last time the three of them had visited Hasetsu and felt like barfing. There was no way Victor would do anything to hurt Yuuri. He loved that guy more than he loved himself.

It was nice, too, Yuri thought, feeling Otabek's hand in his.

"What was that kiss for?" Yuri asked, squeezing the other teenager's hand.

"I just wanted to," Otabek shrugged.

"He was thanking you." Katsuki stumbled as he turned around, still trying to walk forward. "He enjoyed that you were his knight in shining armor, Yurio. Willing to take on a guy practically twice your size to defend him. It was the stuff of Arthurian legends."

Victor was laughing, but Otabek's face was turning pink.

"I remember when Chris…" Katsudon started, but he turned back around, and the blond couldn't hear him anymore. Instead, he just moved closer to Otabek, squeezing his hand again. He loved the feeling of the other teen squeezing it back.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later found them in a park near the bay. It was a different park than the one they watched the shooting stars at, and obviously they weren't at the same beach, but they could look out over the pier and see the waves crashing against the boats and the shoreline. They stood there, arms draped over the banisters, looking down at the water. It was too late to hear the seagulls, but, closing his eyes, Yuri could almost imagine hearing them.

He was between Otabek and Victor, and he knew that Yuuri was just on the other side of Victor. Yuri couldn't ever remember a time with his real parents that felt more agape than this moment just then.

He was still bristling about the fight, and he thought Otabek was, too, but the other two men were calm, drunk, and happy. Victor reached out his arms, wrapping one around Katsudon and the other around Yuri, pulling them both in for side-armed hugs. After a second, Yuri felt Victor's hand leave him, felt the taller man lean closer to him, until he got a fist-full of Otabek's jacket, and hauled him in, too. Yuri was squished between them, but he laughed.

"When do you think the next time we'll all be together like this is?" Yuri asked, looking up at the moon. He couldn't do Otabek's  _star light star bright_  thing, because there were a ton of them dotting the sky at this time of night. But he wished he hadn't wasted his wish the night before. He never wanted tonight to end.

"Tomorrow," Victor said, letting go of his friends. Yuri felt cold, even if they were all still standing close to one another. "The day after tomorrow. Every day until the Rostelecom Cup."

"Then the Grand Prix," Katsudon said. "Where I will finally win gold, and then Victor will have no choice but to marry me."

Yuri thought about saying ' _over my dead body,'_  but instead, he just laughed.

"Then the Olympics," Otabek said.

"Then," Yuri said, leaning forward against the pier. "If nothing else, my birthday."

Yuri felt Otabek's hand on his back. Victor was making one of those stupid happy  _hmms_  that he did sometimes when he was thinking, and Yuri heard him say, "Is that a formal invitation? I've never been invited to your birthday party before."

"How strange," Yuri said. "You've made a bigger deal out of my birthday than anyone else for the past five years. Only after Yakov reminds you when it is, but…"

"I have a bad memory," Victor whined, and Yuri laughed. "Well, sort of. I seem to distinctly remember my Moana program and the fact that when the sunset hits my hair just right, I look  _so pretty, Vitya_."

Yuri faked anger, elbowing his friend in the side.

The blond expected something from Katsudon, too, but when he leaned forward, looking around Victor at the Japanese skater, the man was looking up at the sky, smiling. He looked back down, looked over at Yuri, still looking stupidly happy.

Yuri found himself smiling back.

They didn't stay there very long. It was cold and late, and they'd all had plenty of excitement for one night. For a second, Yuri thought about suggesting a slumber party, but then he remembered that his friends were adults, and would probably want to do gross, adult things to each other and instead of barfing, Yuri just turned when Victor walked away from the pier, and followed him back to the main road.

Victor hailed a cab and gave him directions to Yuri's apartment.

The blond was exhausted, despite his nap earlier, and he leaned against Otabek in the back of the cab. After a few minutes in silence, the elder teen said, "All my stuff is at your house. I'll grab it and walk home."

"You can't walk home," Yuri said, not bothering to lift his head. "You've been drinking."

"I can walk, Yura. It's not far."

"You can sleep over," Yuri said, patting Otabek's leg like he was reassuring him. "Otherwise it would probably be too quiet. I'm used to having two baby octopi trying to strangle me in my sleep."

"Yurochka," Victor said, but the blond waved his hand, trying to dismiss his concerns.

"Don't Yurochka me," he said. "A Yuri Plisetsky slumber party is nothing like a Victor Nikiforov one. Usually it has video games, but tonight it's only going to be sleep."

"I didn't know you were famous for your slumber parties," Victor laughed.

"I'm not," he said. "This is my first one. Next time, you two can come, yeah? We could rent a stupid horror movie and Katsudon will get scared and we'll all huddle together to keep the monsters away. Or we'll binge eat at the end of the season before we start training again. Just a ton of gross junk food, and we'll stay up all night playing games. Or we could go to the beach again. It'll be fun."

"Yeah, Yuri," Katsuki said, leaning up against him from the other side. Yuri felt the man's head on his shoulder, and he didn't pull away. "It sounds like fun."

Yuri wasn't sure when he dozed off, but he couldn't have been sleeping long. He had to manhandle Yuuri so he was sleeping against the door instead, and when Otabek and Yuri got out, Victor moved from the front to the back seat. He looked, for a moment, before he climbed in the back, like he was going to say something stupid and embarrassing, but in the end, he just got both of them around the back of their necks, dragging them in for a hug.

The blond faked an annoyed sound, but he hugged Victor back.

When the taxi pulled away, Yuri led Otabek up to his apartment. Maybe some day, years from now, they would be heading back here under a different pretext. But Yuri was tired, and Otabek, despite arguing that he wasn't drunk, had to at least be  _more_  drunk than Yuri, and the blond still felt the comfortable, lazy buzz throughout his body.

He fed the key in the door and led Otabek inside.

The younger teen took off his jacket and draped it over a chair, getting his  _Madness_  tank top off before he even got into his bedroom. He was unbuttoning his pants when he heard Otabek's soft, "Yura?" from behind him.

The Kazakh teen wasn't looking at Yuri, but digging in his bag. After a second, he pulled out some black material and stood up, looking over at the blond. He flushed instantly, stammering something, and Yuri was about to put his shirt back on when the elder teen said, "You can change first, sorry."

He hurried into his bedroom and shut the door, shucking his pants for pajamas and throwing on a t-shirt in record time. Yuri always  _always_  wore socks, even when he was home alone, but he ripped those off, too, throwing his old clothes in a hamper, before he made his way back out to Otabek.

The taller teen hadn't changed yet, but the black fabric wasn't in his hands anymore. Instead, Yuri noticed that he had sweats in his arms, and after a second, he remembered that Otabek liked to take showers at night. He walked toward him, intending to let him have the bathroom when he caught sight of black jackets on the couch. Four of them.

They were zip-up hoodies, but the backs were displayed. On each of the hoodies were three things: a last name, a flag, and a coach. He saw Katsuki's first, just above the Japanese flag. Underneath, it said  _Coach: Victor Nikiforov_.

Yuri's and Victor's were the same except for their last names. They had matching Russian flags, matching coaches.

Otabek's had a Kazakh flag, but Yuri moved toward it, picking the hoodie up, looking at the bottom line.  _Coach: Yakov Feltsman._

"Are you serious?" Yuri asked, turning toward Otabek. "You switched coaches halfway through a season?"

Otabek shook his head. "I asked Yakov last year if I could come back. He told me only if I trained with Lilia, and only if she approved of me. He told me to figure out my program myself, before I came. My old coach agreed to watch out for me for the past few months, but she knew I didn't intend to remain there. And Lilia told me today that I could stay."

"But what about your sister?" Yuri said, bringing his hand to his eyes. He wasn't sure why he was crying. "What about Almaty?"

"She knew why I was coming here," Otabek said. "And it wasn't like I've ever been around, anyway. At least in St. Petersburg, I'm closer than I was when I trained anywhere else. She did ask if I would bring you the next time I visited."

Yuri drew Otabek's hoodie to his chest. "Yeah, of course."

"I know I should have asked you," Otabek said, taking a step closer, putting his hands on Yuri's shoulders. "I don't even know if you want me here all the time, but… I saw what Lilia did with you. If I ever want to compete at your level, I have to learn the things I tried to forget when I was a junior in the novice class. It's selfish of me because I want to be near you, but it was also what I thought was best for my career."

Yuri leaned forward, putting his head on Otabek's shoulder, facing his neck. "You're staying?"

"Yeah, Yura. I'm staying."

They stayed like that for a long time. Yuri had one hand clenching the jacket with  _Altin_  and  _Coach: Yakov Feltsman_ , and the other hand was wrapped around Otabek's waist. The taller teen had his arms across Yuri's arms, his hands resting on his back, just holding him there. Yuri was crying, he  _knew_  he was crying, could feel his body shaking with it, but Otabek never said anything about it.

"That's why you didn't want Victor in your bag?"

"Yeah," Otabek said. "I wanted to tell you before I told them. But you declared your embarrassing secret about wanting to marry me and then we fell asleep, so you didn't leave me any time."

When Yuri pulled back, a fake glare on his face until he held the jacket in both hands. He couldn't help but smile as he wrapped it around himself, tugging his hands through the sleeves. Otabek reached forward, straightening the front of it, and when Yuri looked down, he grinned.

"You put the Olympic Rings on it?"

"Yeah," Otabek said. "I was going to give them to you all after the Grand Prix if Lilia let me stay. Yakov said it would take her that long to decide if I was good enough."

"Of course you're good enough," Yuri shot back instantly. "She would have been a fool to let you go."

"I'm glad you think so," Otabek said, leaning over to kiss Yuri, just once, before moving back. "Do you mind if I shower before bed?"

"Go ahead," Yuri said, looking down, admiring the hoodie. He picked up his own and turned it over. From the front, they were identical. They were even the same size, like Otabek anticipated that Yuri would be growing more. The thought that Otabek really must not care if they were the same size, if Yuri was taller, brought a smile to his face. "But don't fall down and smack your head or anything."

"I'm not  _that_  drunk, Yura."

With Otabek in the bathroom, Yuri carried the  _Plisetsy_  hoodie into his bedroom. If Otabek thought he was getting it back until the Grand Prix, he had another thing coming. He draped it over the back of a chair, but turned the chair, so when he laid in bed, he could still see the white outline of his name and the Russian flag. He didn't take Otabek's hoodie off as he climbed into bed, careful not to disturb Potya.

She was off to the side of his bed, but when he crawled under the covers, she picked her head up, moving closer to him. He was still grinning as she settled down and he started petting her. His hand flared with pain, and he drew it back, spreading his fingers wide before making a fist, for a second not remembering what he did to himself.

He used his other hand to pet Potya.

A little while later, Otabek pushed the bedroom door open enough for him to look in. Yuri turned toward him, frowning. "My hand really hurts."

Otabek looked nervous at first, like he always did before bed, like wasn't sure if he would be allowed to stay, but Yuri just drew back the covers. The taller teen walked toward him, sweatpants and stupid tank top as always, and climbed in bed, leaving space between them. "Well, you did punch a guy in the face."

"You think he had a bloody nose?" Yuri asked, as Otabek reached out, taking Yuri's right hand in his own. He held it gently, bringing it to his lips to kiss the knuckles. There was barely any pressure at all, but it still hurt. "I hope I broke his fucking nose."

"I hope you realize how much I love you, Yura," Otabek said, kissing his hand again. "And not just because your first instinct when someone calls me a loser is to break their nose, but it was flattering."

"I told you I was going to get us in trouble," Yuri said, pulling his hand away so he could slide closer, bridge the gap between them, so he could tangle their limbs together. He had really liked that nap this afternoon, and when he put his head on Otabek's chest, he thought that he could  _definitely_  get used to this.

"I didn't think you meant right away," Otabek admitted, and when he laughed, it sent a rumble through Yuri. A second later, the blond had his eyes closed, but he felt Otabek tugging at his sleeve. "You didn't take off my jacket?" Otabek asked. "You're going to get hot."

"I'm never taking it off," Yuri said, feeling already too warm to be comfortable. "Because I love you, too."

It felt huge for him to say it out loud, but Otabek just chuckled again, holding him closer. "I know, Yura." And the blond let out a breath, a sigh of relief, because he wasn't good at saying it, saying nice things like that, but as long as Otabek knew, then that was what mattered.

Now he only had to make sure that Victor and Yuuri knew it, too.

* * *

Yuri did get too hot in the night with the jacket on. He startled Otabek awake when he sat up and bitterly admitted defeat, tugging the thing off, but when he laid back down, he rolled on his side, facing his boyfriend. Otabek met him, and they curled together.

When Yuri felt Otabek's face in his hair, a soft kiss to the top of his head, and heard him murmur something in Kazakh that Yuri didn't understand, he knew that actually wearing the jacket wasn't what was important. He had Otabek. And that was what really mattered.


	7. Grand Prix Final

Yuri didn't think he had this much fun at a competition since his junior days, if even then. Or at least, that was how it had been yesterday, when they had all finished their short programs. Victor  _insisted_  on paying for the four of them at dinner that night, at a random hot pot restaurant that Victor and Katsudon had found while stomping through Japan over a year ago.

They had joked and laughed, and best of all, JJ didn't show up and ruin everything.

Even when they were warming up earlier that day, before their short program, it seemed less tense. Victor never had been anxious before competitions, but Yuri knew that  _nervous_ was Katsuki's natural state. Instead, halfway through stretching his hips against a wall, he suddenly burst into the ballet version of Yuri's free program. So, obviously, the blond had to join in. Phichit took at least a million photographs, and when the Japanese skater burst into laughter at the end, Yuri was concerned that he had finally lost his mind with the pressure.

Until Katsuki dragged him in for a hug. "It doesn't matter," he said. "One of my friends is going to win, so how can I be nervous?"

That was obvious now.

The night before they were set to do their free skate, Yuri was sitting alone in his hotel room, fingers working through the cord on the circular loom. At this point, he didn't need to think constantly about the placement of the next strand, and he found himself thinking about the Grand Prix. Yuri had the top score in his short program. Victor was in second, and Katsudon was in third. Otabek was in fourth. Unless all four of them tanked, or Phichit and Leo pulled off something seriously impressive, three of them would be medaling tomorrow.

Three of the four of them.

Everything had been well and good for the past month, even seeing Victor and Katsudon pretty much daily. The only time Yuri had been away from them was when he and Otabek had gone to Almaty for a few days, to spend some time with his family before they all flew early to Japan, visiting the Katsukis before the competition.

Victor had won the Rostelecom Cup, and Otabek had gotten second. They were close, closer than anyone ever really got to Victor before his year-long break at being a coach, and even though none of them mentioned it (other than Victor throwing his arms around Otabek in congratulations), Yuri heard people talk.

For half a second, Yuri wondered if he had it in him to land wrong on purpose. If he fell a few times…

But Yuri knew he didn't have that in him any more than he knew the others could do it. And Jesus, if he managed to throw the competition and the others found out, he'd have more problems than if he just wiped the rink with them in the first place.

But he didn't really  _want_  to beat Victor. And he'd be so proud of Otabek if he beat him, that it would still be worth it to lose.

Katsuki, on the other hand, he still wanted to destroy. But the feeling was mutual. They were friends now, but before that, they were competitors. There had been a mutual respect for one another long before Yuri would have admitted to it.

But Yuri would still rather lose to Katsudon than Phichit or Leo. Thank  _God_  JJ hadn't entered the tournament because his first placement happened to be in the middle of his honeymoon.

Yuri had spent the last two days lurking around the rink, watching the ladies and the pairs, practicing when Yakov told him to, and wandering around Japan. He had only really known Hasetsu, and he had managed to sneak off without the other three after practice one morning. They had the Olympics next month, but Otabek and Katsudon would probably be leaving soon after the Grand Prix finals to train with their teams. Their national teams. And as much as Yuri wanted them all to stay together, the fact they'd all be competing at the Olympic level against each other was a cool enough reason for him not to whine about it.

But they'd all be gone.

After about two hours of wandering around, Yuri found a cute little shop on the corner of a street. It wasn't very busy, and the blond ducked it, not really expecting to find anything. It looked like fancy, homemade knickknacks and trinkets, which wouldn't really be optimal for how much they had to travel. The whole point was it was something small, something they could carry around with them.

The person behind the register was a young girl, in some sort of school uniform. She was probably a teenager, and even though she had a textbook open on the table and her phone next to it, she was messing around with some string and a white Styrofoam circle.

When she looked up and saw him standing there, she greeted him in Japanese, if informally, and looked back down. Yuri repeated the greeting, knowing it must have sounded sloppy by the way she looked back up, grinning at him.

"American?" She asked, in English.

"Russian," he answered. "What are you doing?"

She shrugged, looking down and started moving her fingers again, but answered, "My childhood friend's boyfriend broke up with her. I'm making her a bracelet like we used to do as kids to take her mind off of it. Or at least, I'm hoping it will."

"It's like a friendship bracelet?"

The girl smiled, nodding. "It's called kumihino. Traditionally, it was used to as belts and armor and to wrap the handles of swords."

"Whoa," Yuri said, moving closer. "That's badass."

"Yeah," she said, looking back up at him. "And now we make them for our friends."

"Is it hard?"

Again, the girl shrugged. As she continued to progress, moving different colored threads around the small, plastic wheel, she started talking about other things. How colors meant different things, and different charms could be woven into it to represent different things. Watching her, it didn't seem to difficult. He hadn't had a ton of free time, but it seemed like in the fifteen minutes since he'd entered, her bracelet had grown more than two inches, so it would probably only take, like, an hour to make one.

It would only take fours hours to make each of them one.

"If you're just making a spiral like this one, it's super easy," the girl said. "And you can do it while listening to the TV or whatever, so it's kind of fun. I like it because it's therapeutic; it's all constant, similar. But there are other patterns, like little hearts and stuff. They have a ton of tutorials on YouTube."

The string made a soft  _thimp_ sound as she pulled it tight and placed in the loom. Three whites were suddenly at the bottom, and she put the loom down, moving to a different part of the store. Yuri followed, and he saw some already made. There was also a bunch of looms and different colored cords. She picked up one that almost looked like little hearts because of the braiding pattern.

"Oh, cool," he said.

"Yeah," she said. Yuri thumbed at the cord, wondering what it would like with Kazakh colors: a blue background with yellow sort-of hearts. When he looked back up at her, he held out the already made bracelet. "So what's a Russian doing here anyway?"

"The skating thing…" Yuri waved his hand. "I'm a skater."

The girl looked him over again, but whatever she thought about that wasn't said aloud. "I mean, you're looking for a souvenir?"

"Not really," he said. "I need something for my friends. I think this would be perfect, if I don't fuck them up."

An hour later found him in his hotel bed, sitting with his legs crossed, a YouTube tutorial open on his phone, as he made a simple spiral with the white, blue, and red of the Russian flag slowly merging under his careful attention. If anything, fixing the clasp was even harder, but that first attempt had been a few days ago. Now, with his own, Victor, and Katsuki's done, the blond was just finishing up Otabek's.

The blue and gold of the Kazakhstan flag was beautiful, and the little gold parts looked enough like hearts that Yuri could say they were, but Otabek wore it out in public, like the blond hoped he would, nobody would instantly think they were hearts.

With the actual bracelet done, Yuri fumbled with the clasps, holding it up to the window, grinning. Each one had gotten progressively better, but Otabek's was definitely the best. An added bonus was that the mindless task kept him from focusing too much on tomorrow. But now that all four bracelets were hidden in the front of his bag, Yuri flopped back down on his bed, thinking he deserved a nap.

Unfortunately, he couldn't help but run the numbers through his head. He knew his friends' programs like he knew his own, and he knew their strengths and weaknesses. He'd never spent this time analyzing his opponents, but it wasn't like  _that_ , either. He was trying anticipate what would happen tomorrow. Either way, all of them were going to be upset.

Three weren't getting gold. One wouldn't medal. And whoever got Gold had to pretend not to be fucking  _ecstatic_ so he wouldn't hurt his friends' feelings.

It fucking sucked.

A knock on his door startled him from his thoughts, and he almost yelled  _come in_  before he remembered hotel doors locked automatically. He got up and walked to the door.

Otabek had on his leather jacket. Yuri had been pretty bitter about the fact that the average in St. Petersburg in December was nearly forty degrees colder than where Katsudon had grown up. Their warm beach trip when his friends had been kids was an anomaly, but since they'd gotten to Japan, it hadn't dropped below sixty yet. Yuri wanted to run around in shorts and t-shirts (this was  _July_  weather in St. Petersburg, some summers), but Otabek and Katsudon had thought he was crazy.

"Hey," Otabek said, stepping closer, putting a hand on Yuri's hip before leaning in. The blond would never get used to Otabek greeting him with a kiss, even if he did it every day for the rest of their lives. When the elder teen walked into the hotel room, Yuri smiled and shut the door. Otabek turned back to him and said, "Yakov said we could hang out tonight as long as we don't drink or get hurt or stay out late."

"You wanna watch a movie then?" Yuri asked, moving closer to him. "I bought popcorn."

"Later," Otabek said, dropping his backpack on the floor. The blond grinned. He only brought his backpack when he planned to spend the night, but he adjusted his other bag on his shoulder. A gym bag. "I found a place for us to work out."

Yuri pulled a face. "We skated this morning."

"Ah, okay." Otabek held up his phone. "But I booked us an hour at the local boxing club."

The blond rushed to his bag, digging out his skating clothes and trading them out for shorts and a tank top. He heard Otabek chuckle while he checked to see if he had tape and sneakers in the bag. He threw on his  _Plisetsky_  Olympic jacket – the other man hadn't even tried to take it away from him – and was waiting for Otabek at the door.

The taller teen didn't call a cab, so the blond just followed him.

After finishing  _Lord of the Flies_  a few weeks ago, Otabek had given him a paperback version of  _Fight Club_. Yuri had grumbled about it at first, but he demolished it in a few hours, going back through right away to highlight his favorite quotes and scribble notes. Otabek had been bored, Yuri was sure, but after spending an hour on his computer, he eventually commandeered Yuri's Switch and was steadily working through all the Temples in  _Breath of the Wild_  ever since.

Yuri never knew he could sit in silence with someone for hours and just enjoy having them nearby.

After finishing  _Fight Club_ , Yuri felt fundamentally changed, and he had tried to start a fist fight with Otabek, who quickly shut that down by suggesting they join a boxing club instead. The first time there, Yuri had tried picking a fight with the biggest guy, and he  _almost_  convinced him to get in the ring with him, until Otabek told  _everyone_  that Yuri was a Grand Prix gold medalist who was about to sweep the floor at the Olympics, and then nobody in Russia would risk fighting him and injuring him.

For country.

Yuri wanted to destroy something beautiful. Or be destroyed. He honestly wasn't picky… he just wanted to fight.

The trainers started pushing Yuri toward weight lifting, rowing machines, and battling ropes in addition to training with the punching bags. The blond could only think about the fight, about some day getting in the ring and punching someone – and even if he knew boxing  _wasn't_  the spirit of  _Fight Club_ , he'd already fought a drunk guy at a club, so whatever – and it was probably two weeks of nearly daily training later when he caught sight of himself in the mirror and had to do a double take.

Yuri had just been about to get in the shower, so he ripped his shirt off, frowning at his reflection.

Two weeks was nothing, but the blond had been obsessed with maintaining his slender, ballerina figure for over a year. Before his friends had turned into kids, Yakov and Lilia had been trying their best to find him a nutrition plan that would keep him small but not kill him. Yuri himself had been trying to maintain by not eating at all, even after the Yulia Lipnitskaya thing came out. Yuri had been sort of devastated when she retired because he would have liked to be the youngest male skater to win Gold at the Olympics, opposite of her performance at Sochi, but wasn't surprised when she admitted why.

Yuri had already vowed to sell his body and soul to Lilia. If that meant he could never be more than eighty-five pounds, so be it. But as his stamina grew weaker, and he found himself exhausted constantly, he realized that wasn't sustainable.

If Yuri was going to skate past nineteen, he had to change, too.

After the kids, Yuri hadn't cared as much about what he ate. He was going to grow, and probably a lot. He had to feed his body if he wanted it to work; food was fuel after all.

He turned in the mirror, trying to see from a different angle. He'd never really worked his arms much before. He wasn't suddenly jacked or anything, but Yuri spent a lot of time this past year tracking every subtle difference of his body.

He felt ridiculous doing it, but he moved to flex his biceps in the mirror.

In his reflection, he didn't watch his face fall with panic, but saw a small smile form. He was going to be okay.

It had been another week or so after that before even though Lilia started to comment on it – not cruelly, thank god, but small compliments – the blond liked that he was doing something different. If his body was changing anyway, he needed to find new advantages. Just like Otabek had struggled to dance and found soccer, Yuri was already looking on YouTube, looking up different martial arts-inspired dance routines, trying to figure out where he could go after his body wouldn't let him be the prima ballerina anymore.

But, he was kind of excited. Sure, he was beautiful. He would always be beautiful. He could be other things, too. He could be strong. He could be dangerous. He could be a warrior, the soldier that Otabek thought he was when he was ten.

Or maybe, Otabek had always, somehow, been able to see it, before Yuri even knew it was inside of himself.

The taller teen held open the door for the younger; the blond loved stepping into a boxing club. He loved stepping into a ballet studio, too. The floors were beautiful, the barre reminded him of an old friend, and the mirror never hid a single mistake. A boxing club was different. The ring was sitting in the middle of the floor, like a prize for only the most worthy to enter. There were smaller practice rings around, but they weren't elevated, and stepping through to the locker room wasn't unlike any other locker room, but the weight room was totally different. Skaters only focused on their arms enough to look good in their costumes. A boxer  _needed_  strength in his arms.

They changed quickly, facing away from each other. Yuri stopped on his way though to the weight room to look in the mirror. The shirt was stolen from Otabek, black and sort of loose on him, the same one that the Kazakh skater had been wearing when Mila had taken that sneaky picture of him.

It didn't look  _just_  as good on Yuri, the blond thought. But it  _felt_  really good.

Yuri put up his hair and walked into the weight room.

They warmed up. Yuri had been helping Otabek with his flexibility, but there was no comparison. Pushing Otabek's hips down, closer toward a split was a reward in and of itself and if decking a guy was what did it for the older teen, this was Yuri's biggest weakness. Yuri made sure to be more gentle with his boyfriend than Lilia had been with him. (Fucking  _straight legged_  and she pushed him to hyper extend, then said he wasn't very flexible when he cried out and tried to straighten his back to take pressure off his legs. Look who was laughing now, Lilia.)

He had gotten strange looks when he stretched the first week or two at their club back in Russia. Not many guys in this sport could touch their forehead to their shins when doing a forward bend, or could lay out in a split before feeling any real stretch in their legs, or move their back like that. He knew it made him strange around these guys, what they would consider normal, but Yuri just sneered back whenever someone threw him a look.

Nobody did, not here.

They probably figured they were here for the skating competition considering it was only a few blocks away.

Once stretched, they jumped rope, raising their heart rates to warm up that muscle. They did a handful of pull ups, sit ups, squats. Otabek dropped to do pushups, and even though Yuri followed, he hadn't been able to outlast his boyfriend on any of the upper body exercises. He did a few, but then dropped to his knees and elbows, holding a modified plank while he looked up, watching the elder teen.

He was sweaty. Skating was hard, but it wasn't like working out, not like this. And Yuri loved it. He loved how Otabek's hair looked when it got wet, when his shirt started to soak with the sweat, when it dripped from his nose, from his chin. After a few more push ups, Otabek lowered himself to his knees, pushing back to sitting, wiping his face off with the back of his hand.

Yuri didn't look away. It was okay if he got caught staring. He found if Otabek tried to call him out on it, all it took was a well-timed wink or a small bite of his lip to turn it around on him.

"I wanted to show you this before, I finally did it when we were in Almaty, but…" Yuri looked around. There were other people working out, but they were all busy and none of them were paying attention. He stood up and moved away, looking around again before he raised his hands, and moved into a hand stand.

His first handstand had been a huge deal. He tried one against the wall a few months back and practically collapsed, not strong enough to hold himself up. It was so strange to him then, that he could be a top athlete but felt so weak. Now, he could hold himself up for several minutes if he wanted to, but instead, he moved his legs. The balance had been the hardest thing to work out, but he had been watching contortion and inversion yoga videos on the internet since he was strong enough to hold himself up.

A side split variation was the easiest, but he moved from that to front split pretty fluidly. It was harder to raise a leg and bend it, in sort of a one-legged scorpion but not as deep. It was easy to just continue to extend the leg that was already out until he could walk himself back up.

Otabek grinned, "You always look so pretty and graceful. Can't you just let me sweat in peace?"

"Never," Yuri said, smiling. "I like bugging you too much."

Yuri insisted on using battling ropes, even though they were such a fast way to wear out his arms, but it wasn't like he was planning on pulling anymore handstands. It felt like a minute of using the battling ropes worked him four times as much as a minute of just lifting, and when his arms felt like jello, he finally gave in at let them take a break.

Otabek wrapped up his hands while Yuri took a drink. He turned to look at the younger teenager and said, "Remember, you're competing tomorrow. It's okay if your arms feel like lead when you're just going to practice, but I know how much you love raising your arms during jumps."

"Shut up," Yuri said, trading the water bottle for tape. It was  _insane_ , watching Otabek drink after him. He knew it should disgust him, but it didn't. It drove him nuts. "You know that an arm raised looks fucking glorious."

"I'm just saying, this is supposed to be fun," Otabek said, his eyes falling to Yuri's hands, watching as the blond taped himself up so he would break any of the little bones in his hands or hurt his wrists. "They'll let you in the ring after the Olympics."

"And whose fault is that?"

"You're an  _Olympian_ ," Otabek said, standing up and moving to the large punching bag. "Sorry for thinking you wanted all your teeth for when you skated across the ice to get your  _Olympic_  gold metal."

Yuri wasn't sure if he looked as cool as Otabek did when he was punching the bag, but Otabek definitely looked as cool as Yuri felt. He watched him for a bit before moving to another bag, a few feet away. He enjoyed the feeling in his arms, his abs. He even liked the ache in his hands and wrists, not so different from the dull pain he'd felt later that night, after he punched that guy. He loved the way he felt afterward, like all the anger that had been burning inside him for years had been fuel for  _this moment_ , but as soon as he stepped away from the bag, it was like it was all gone.

It didn't always work like that, but after what felt like forever, Yuri stepped away, brushing the sweat and a few stray strands of hair from his face. He wasn't worrying about tomorrow. He wasn't thinking about who would get first or who wouldn't place. Instead, he could feel the blood rushing through his veins, the beating of his heart against his skin, the gross sweat in his hair, and how  _good_  he felt.

Even though they were in public, Otabek wrapped an arm around his shoulder, dragging him in. Yuri placed a hand on his back, holding him there for a second, but they were quick to separate. Both were still breathing heavily, and Yuri checked the clock, seeing how much time they had.

Not a lot.

"You're at your warmest," Yuri pointed out, gesturing dumbly at Otabek's chest. "Which means you're at your most flexible. It would be a good time to push it."

"Yeah, okay," Otabek said, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his face off on it. Yuri's eyes fell to his friend's stomach, missing the look the taller teen was throwing him until he finally dragged his eyes back to the guy's face. Yuri scowled, but Otabek just smiled. "Let's find a spot."

After a little searching, they found a room not far from the locker rooms that looked almost like a padded ballet studio. Yuri's Japanese was pretty horrible, but he knew enough to understand that it was where some of the children's classes in martial arts were taught. The guy knew enough English to allow them access to the room for the last fifteen minutes of their session in order to stretch, but only once Yuri demonstrated by slipping into the warrior sequence. In the line of mirrors on the other side of the practice room, Yuri saw Otabek holding back laughter.

"Forward bend, now," Yuri said, sounding more demanding than he meant to, but watched in the mirror as the elder teen stopped laughing and folded forward, keeping his legs straight and wrapping his arms around his legs. Yuri watched as the other teen's shirt fell a bit, exposing the very back of his spine before spotting some small jumping blocks behind him. "Okay," Yuri said. "To the floor."

Otabek's hands flattened on the floor, about hip-width apart. Yuri recognized his own fluid movement as Otabek moved his foot between his legs, lowering himself down into a front split. He hovered just above the ground, and Yuri sat on his knees beside him.

"Look how close you are," Yuri murmured, hand shooting out to touch Otabek's thigh. The teen flinched, his hand lifting up to cup Yuri's shoulder, using his arms to hold himself up. The blond squeezed the muscle, kneading it, before sitting up a bit, putting his own hand on Otabek's shoulder. Yuri didn't say anything, and Otabek was biting his lip, but he was nodding.

Yuri pushed, just slightly.

The sound that came from Otabek startled Yuri, and he wanted to shove him down, try to hear it again, but he didn't. He waited until Otabek's breath hitched, when he knew his friend was pushing too much past a good stretch and his breathing was labored because of the pain, to call it off.

"Good," he said, and Otabek dropped his back knee down instantly, hand tightening on Yuri's shoulder. "You should have started with a side, though. You can do those."

Otabek sat, drawing his legs in for a second, before stretching them back out in a side split. "So why would I start with what I can already do?"

"So you don't hurt yourself," Yuri said, watching as Otabek struggled to put his elbows on the ground. Upright was fine for him, but he wanted to be able to lay out, put his forehead to the floor like Yuri could. The blond put his hands on his boyfriend's forearms, leaning closer to him. There was no one in the room, after all. And true, the door was open, but nobody was looking in at them.

Otabek seemed startled by the kiss, but he kissed him back. Yuri could spend hours like this, lazily kissing and licking at the taller teen. He moved his hands up as they kissed, closer to the crook in Otabek's elbows and pushed, trying to help him lower to his elbows, but Otabek made a sound and Yuri pulled back.

"Did I hurt you?" Yuri asked. The dark-haired teen was quick to get away, sit up and draw his legs in so he was cross-legged. He rubbed his thigh like it hurt, and the blond frowned at him. Otabek laughed at the look.

"You didn't  _hurt_  me, Yura," Otabek said. "But kissing me isn't going to make my stretches better."

"Well, why not?"

"Well, first of all, I don't really care about stretching anymore with a distraction like that. I'd rather be paying attention to you. Not to mention, the actual stretching is more difficult. I mean, physiologically speaking…"

"No, stop," Yuri said, feeling his face warming up. Otabek laughed, and Yuri left him alone to his stretches, grabbing the jumping blocks for himself.

The blond stacked up a few of them not too far away from his friend, putting one heel on the blocks before lowering to a split. He could actually hyperextend his splits more, and for a second, he looked past his friend to the blocks. He could grab a few more, but he caught sight of Otabek.

"What now?"

Otabek flushed, looking away. "Nothing."

"Someday," Yuri started, "You'll be able to do this, too."

"It's not that," Otabek said, still looking away.

"Then what –"

"You're just so  _attractive_ ," Otabek hissed, his face even more red. "It's more than pretty or beautiful. I wish there was a word that I could say to tell you how… how…  _hot_  you are."

"Hot?" Yuri asked, practically rolling out of his split. Otabek stopped stretching too, but he was still looking away. "You think I'm hot?"

"It's  _more_  than that. That makes it sound like that's the only thing I like about you, like it's somehow basic and crude and one-dimensional. And beautiful is so dignified, which you are, but that's not the word that fits right this second, and…"

"We should kiss again," Yuri said, and Otabek looked up at him. "Like we should probably not stop kissing ever again."

Yuri had been sort of serious, but he was glad when Otabek laughed and played it off like he had meant to make a joke, because it saved him from the embarrassment of how honest he had meant it to be. Otabek did move like he was going to kiss him, but his eyes found the clock and he backed off, instead. "Time's up."

Yuri made a face, but he took care of the jumping blocks and followed Otabek back to the locker rooms. The blond ripped his shirt off, looking toward the little shower stalls. He half expected a bathhouse like at Katsudon's inn. He dug in his bag, reaching for new clothes when he picked up his phone, checking it out of a force of habit.

He had a new group message from Victor with several responses.

**Dearest competitors, Yuuri and I would like us all to get dinner tonight. We're free for the rest of the night. Don't worry! It's just dinner. No alcohol. No late nights. Some of our coaches are being no fun. (Not me, of course. Others. Coughyakovcough)**

Everyone had already responded but himself and Otabek. Yuri checked the clock. They were meeting in about forty-five minutes.

"Hey –" Yuri started, but Otabek cut him off.

"I just got it," Otabek said, turning back to the blond. Yuri watched as his friend's eyes fell to his chest, but he was quick to recover and look back at Yuri's face. "Sounds nice, right?"

Yuri nodded, typing his response:  **beka and i are in if youre paying.**

Across the room, he heard Otabek groan. Two messages came through the group chat at the same time:  **Okay!**  from Victor and  **He's joking. We'll be there regardless.**  from Otabek.

"Aw, c'mon," Yuri said. "My bank account still hasn't recovered from when they were kids. He owes us."

Instead of responding, Otabek's hands fell to his shirt. Yuri watched as the elder teen tugged off his shirt. Admittedly, Yuri was distracted, so he didn't really process the sight of Otabek picking up a towel or rolling it up, but he did snap out of it when he felt the sting.

"Hey," Yuri grumbled, rubbing his chest.

"Let's just shower here," Otabek said, grinning. This time, Yuri gathered up his clothes, enjoying the view from behind as Otabek's broad back led him into the showers. They had separate stalls, but when he heard the water turn on, Yuri found himself flushing. The blond tried to apply what Katsuki had told him about the  _onsen_ and why it wasn't weird for a bunch of naked dudes to soak together to the locker room.  _There isn't anything inherently sexual about nudity_.

But as he stripped down and turned on his own shower, it didn't really help him think less about the fact that his boyfriend was naked only a segmented wall and a curtain away.

* * *

Otabek had thrown up his hair after his shower, but neither of them had nice clothes on them to wear out to dinner. Luckily, when they walked up to the restaurant, it wasn't a formal attire only place. The table fit eight, two per side. Phichit and Leo were next to each other, both in jeans. Katsuki had on the hoodie that Otabek had given them, and next to him, Victor looked nice, but he pretty much always did when he wasn't at practice.

Victor took one look at them, both freshly showered and slightly out of breath from hurrying to make it on time, and flushed, looking for a second like he wasn't going to say anything. The second he opened his mouth, Yuri realized why the man would have looked like that, and he was determined to beat him to it.

" _Poshol ná khuy!"_ Yuri yelled. He would have jumped over the table and tackled Victor, but suddenly the whole table – and half the restaurant – was looking at him. Instead, he sat down next to Katsuki, his hands balled into fists to keep from hitting Victor. "Why do you always do that?"

Victor tried to school his face, but he was still pink. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"How was boxing?" Katsudon asked, looking completely oblivious to Victor's first thought. The blond glared at Victor, even as he felt Otabek sit down beside him.

"It was fun," Otabek said. "Thanks for the recommendation."

"Oh, you were  _boxing_ ," Victor said, grinning at Yuri. The teenager opened his mouth to start screaming at his friend again, but the waitress came up, already setting glasses of water down in front of everyone – even Victor, surprisingly wasn't drinking – before she asked to take their orders.

By the time she left, Victor had moved on.

"So," Victor said, grinning across the table. "What are you going to do for the gala exhibition, gentlemen?"

Katsuki, who had been taking a sip of his water, choked. His eyes shot to Yuri, and the blond wanted to glare daggers at him, but instead, looked toward Phichit and Leo, knowing the Japanese man couldn't keep a secret to save his life. It had been a somewhat common source of tension among the lovebirds, recently. After last year's  _Stammi Vicino_  duet, Victor had been none-too-subtly hurt when Yuuri hadn't approached him about doing something again. When the older man finally asked, the dark-haired man had blushed, stammered, and admitted he  _already had a plan_.

Victor had taken it like a teenager getting turned down for prom, and he hadn't dropped it since.

Apparently, Leo was doing some  _Hamilton_ -inspired program. It didn't really surprise Yuri. The only thing he knew about Leo was that he liked music, specifically hip-hop, and so why wouldn't he like musical theatre, too? The American was kind of quiet, not comfortable with any of them but Otabek and Phichit (the former, because they used to be rinkmates and the latter because who could be uncomfortable around Phichit?) so when Victor prompted him to talk about his costume, he looked to Otabek first, like he thought the older skater (or maybe Yuri) would mock him if he showed too much enthusiasm. When Otabek nodded, the American smiled.

Yuri was kind of excited to see the costume. He himself was a fan of the ladies costumes, and the American Revolutionary War-inspired costume had coattails. It would spin like some of the longer skirts the girls wore. The blond was sure it would look cool. Even though it fell awkwardly from his mouth, he made sure to say so. Leo turned red and pretty much stopped talking after that.

Phichit talked so fast, Yuri only caught one or two words out of every ten, and by the time he stopped talking, Yuri still had no idea what his exhibition program or costume was going to look like.

Otabek, stoic asshole that he was, gave the strangest details that couldn't possibly be true, but some bullshit that Victor might buy because he was a moron. There was something about the  _epic struggle of alien invasion_ and _one man's love for an exotic beauty of another species_ , and behind Victor's alarmed, trusting look, Katsuki was barely holding it together. It was the most Phichit and Leo had ever heard Otabek talk, likely, and they were ping-ponging back and forth between Victor and Yuuri, not sure whose reaction to trust.

When Victor turned to Yuri, the blond was interrupted with a hand on his shoulder, then a feeling of something constricting him from behind. He fought to breathe, to push whoever it was off of him, but a few seconds later, the person relented, laughed, and pulled up a chair.

"Mila," Yuri said, glancing behind her when another chair moved. "And Sara. Together."

Drinking, he didn't add. The girls had had their free program earlier that afternoon. Mila had come in first. Sara in second. He knew that people went out to blow off steam after the competition, but not usually first and second place. Together. Sara had her arm wrapped through Mila's arm, her face flushed, and Mila somehow looked prettier, happier with Sara on her arm than she did the gold around her neck.

Congratulations were had, and Mila beamed. She was so different on and off the ice that Yuri almost wondered if she was still acting before realizing that she was just really pretty trashed. The Russian women were significantly more competitive than the Russian men (Let's be honest, Georgi was never going to compete against Victor or Yuri) and they peaked younger.

Mila was only nineteen, but every year, two or three amazing skaters came out of the juniors. One girl, Alina Zagitova, had all six of her jumps in the second half of her free program. Yuri, admittedly, liked Alina better. He'd only met her a handful of times, but they were practically the same age, and she  _hated_  him. Once, he'd filmed himself doing her  _Red Ballerina_  routine, and she promptly showed him up by doing his  _Agape_ , and even without quads, it had been pretty amazing. Alina had the same hunger he did, and even though he was Mila's friend, he had to admit he liked Alina.

They would both be on the Olympic team with him and Victor.

"Oh yes, Yurochka, please tell us about your gala program," Mila said, her hand so tight on his bicep, he thought it was cutting off the circulation. "Tell us what jailbait seductress dance you'll be performing this year."

"You were very…" Sara started, then started giggling. "Can I even think it without being gross? I don't want to go to jail."

"He was hot," Mila said, winking at the younger boy. "It's only bad if you wanted to have sex with him, I think. And it's only illegal if you  _did_."

This time, it was Otabek choking, and Mila absolutely  _cackled_ , and Yuri wanted to die.

"I'm going to do Zagitova's  _Black Swan_  performance. You should see me in that black and white tutu. Make sure you carry some tissues, because you're bound to get a nosebleed."

Mila fumed, Sara giggled, and Otabek looked like he was the one who was about to get a bloody nose. To save himself, Otabek quickly said, "You have four costumes in your hotel room, and none of them are dresses."

Yuri wanted to scream that he'd never been so betrayed in his life, but instead said, "You looked?"

"I was curious," he admitted, ears pink. "You haven't told me what you were doing for the exhibition either."

"It's not a surprise," Yuri said, looking from Otabek to Victor. "I just… It's different for me."

"And  _Welcome to the Madness_  wasn't different?" Mila prompted.

" _Madness_  was cool," Yuri said, unwrapping his straw and crunching up the wrapper. "And my programs are pretty. But I'm something different now."

"Evolving," Yuuri said, a small smile on his face. "You're always evolving."

"What's the costume look like, Beka?" Victor said, reaching a grabby hand forward and gripping Otabek's forearm. Yuri wanted to break his fingers. "Maybe we could guess."

"Like, normal clothes. Faux-jeans and normal white tank top and a short-sleeve button up."

"Jeggings?" Victor gasped. "And what kind of button up?"

"Not jeggings. But performance pants that look like jeans. And, like a solid blue one, I don't know."

"What the hell?" Yuri said. "You traitors."

"Fine. And what about you?" Victor said, elbows on the table, chin in his hands, batting his eyelashes at his fiancé. "What's your exhibition? I couldn't help but notice you had four costumes, too. We do, after all, share a room."

Surprisingly, Katsuki just smiled. "You jealous?"

Sara giggled, her hand on Victor's forearm. "If you think he has eyes for anyone but you, you're stupider than I am."

Shortly after that, their food came, and the skaters quieted down, devouring their meal. Mila and Sara didn't order anything, but a refill of their drinks, but both girls, suddenly free from any competition that mattered in the next day or two, were more than happy to pick at the boys' plates and bowls. Even though Yuri claimed to hate Mila as much as he hated Victor, she was undeniably beautiful in that moment, with Sara laughing, cheeks pink, leaning heavily on Mila's side as the Russian woman tried to sweet-talk her way into eating some of Leo's food.

It was the opposite of JJ and his girlfriend showing up the year before. Yuri felt the foreign feeling of happiness filling him up with the warm food and Otabek's elbow bumping against him occasionally as they both ate their meals.

By the time the crew got up and paid their check, it was already dark outside. Mila and Sara moved on to a bar, after Mila kissed Yuri on his cheek, gripping his biceps tightly, practically squealing about how happy she was that Sara had agreed to go out with her, in none too hushed tones. Otabek was still  _right there_  when Mila said, "Taking that picture of your Beka was so worth it," before kissing him again, bouncing away to the door to meet back up with Sara. Absently, Yuri wondered where Mickey was, but then he caught sight of Otabek's flushed face and forgot all about the Italians. Luckily, Otabek didn't ask, and the rest of them made their way back to the hotel.

Otabek kept his distance, which was fine with Yuri. Despite dating for a few weeks, only Victor and Katsuki knew. It was one thing to wear a jacket that didn't have his country's flag on the chest and his best friend's name across his back, but it seemed like a different thing entirely to reach across the space between them, to grab his hand in front of all their friends and anyone who may recognize them. And here, anyone could recognize them. So Yuri kept his hands in his pockets, and so did Otabek.

On the other hand, Katsuki had his hands in his jacket pockets as well, but Victor leaned close, his hand on the back of the shorter man's forearm, almost like the Japanese man was leading him. Knowing Yuuri, though, he probably didn't even realize how simple and romantic it looked.

Someday, Yuri thought, that might be him and Otabek. But he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"So are you two going to bed early?" Phichit asked, turning around to talk to the couple in the middle of the pack.

"Yeah," Katsuki said, ignoring the way Victor protested. "I don't usually sleep too well before a competition, but I try. Victor usually runs out and goes swimming with other men."

Victor groaned, "It was just Christophe. You make it sound like I have a secret lover on the side."

"You mean Christophe isn't your secret lover on the side?" Yuri asked. Victor shot him a wounded glare, but Katsuki just offered a smile, appreciating the joke. "Besides, isn't he here to see you, anyway? He retired last year, but I saw on Insta that he was in Japan."

"He isn't here for  _me_ ," Victor insisted. "He's here for all of us."

"Oh, I thought the post  _specifically_  said something about coming here on your invitation," Yuri continued. "Something about wanting a rematch of the stripping match with Katsudon from two years ago and hoping to join you both together afterwords."

Beside him, Otabek laughed, but Victor just preened, acted offended, and stuck up his chin, refusing to reply.

When they got back to the hotel, Phichit and Leo got off on two separate floors. When they reached Yuri's floor, Otabek adjusted the strap on his gym bag and started walking out after the blond. Victor reached out a hand, holding it in front of the elevator door, keeping it from shutting.

"Beka, this isn't your floor."

"Oh," Otabek said, looking around. "Are you sure?"

"We're gonna hang out and watch a movie," Yuri said, waving his hand. "I promise I won't keep him awake. He's gotta kick your ass tomorrow."

"Yuri," Victor said, voice hard.

Yuri just sighed.

"Don't do anything reckless," the Japanese skater added, grabbing hold of Victor's pants, leaning back against the elevator, dragging Victor away from the opening. Victor made a soft sound of surprise, but the Japanese skater had pulled too hard, practically forcing Victor's back against his front. The look Katsuki shot the younger skaters was pure evil, so confident that they rarely saw off the ice. "You have to compete tomorrow, and neither of you want to lose because you were too sore to compete because you were up all night f —"

"We won't," Otabek said, face pink. As the door shut, Otabek yelled back, "You either."

"No promises," Yuuri laughed, but Victor started protesting.

The door was already shut, but Yuri banged a fist against it, yelling, "You better fucking not! I want to beat you both fair and square."

Otabek laughed, placing his hand gently on Yuri's elbow, not dissimilarly to the way Victor held on to Katsuki, and alone in the hallway, Yuri didn't find himself hating it, either.

The blond let them both in his room, and Otabek wasted no time making himself at home. He kicked off his shoes, digging in his overnight bag for shorts. The blond did the same, changing into the shorts he usually slept in while Otabek went to the bathroom. He took off his hoodie and draped it over a chair, picking up Otabek's Kazakh one, slipping it over his shoulders instead. He jumped onto his stomach on the large bed, reaching for his phone.

He texted Georgi about Potya, and it didn't even take his rinkmate a second to reply with a video. Potya was sitting on Georgi's girlfriend's lap, hissing and swatting at the man whenever he moved close to her.

Yuri laughed, watching the video again.

He felt the bed dip as Otabek jumped next to him, on his stomach, too. Yuri pushed his phone over, replaying the video, watching the other teen as he laughed.

"So, what do you want to do?" Otabek asked, looking up at the blond. "We probably have a few hours before either of us could reasonably go to sleep. If you just want to read or whatever, we don't have to watch a movie. I could mess around on my computer or play the Switch or whatever."

Looking up at him, at the way his dark hair was pulled back, the softness of his face and arms, the simple joy Otabek must feel to be around him, the same way Yuri felt about Otabek. It didn't matter if they were barely surviving, trying to keep the kids alive. It didn't matter if they were skating together, watching a movie together, or just sitting quietly near each other. Yuri just really liked to be around Otabek.

And he must feel the same way, right?

Instead of asking, Yuri dropped his phone back to the bed, moving slowly toward the other teenager. He watched for any sign of discomfort or panic, but just saw a soft, open expression on his friend's face. When Yuri kissed him, Otabek didn't hesitate, he just kissed him back.

And when Yuri put a hand on Otabek's shoulder, pushing him backwards, away, the older teen went willingly, lying on his back, letting Yuri hover over him to control the kiss. The blond felt a hand on his side, another hand in his hair, holding it back and out of their faces. He could feel the pressure of Otabek pushing back, kissing him back, and after what felt like a long time, longer than they usually spent kissing, Yuri pulled away.

Otabek was still on his back, not questioning what had caused the start of the kissing, nor why it had ended, but he was looking up at Yuri with a flushed face, and his hand rubbing at the blond's side, over the thin fabric, even though the blond knew two inches lower had his exposed skin from where his shirt was riding up. Yuri moved his hand from Otabek's shoulder, rubbing at the bare skin where his shirt was dipped lower over his chest, rubbing his finger across Otabek's collarbone.

He was still mostly on his side, definitely not directly on top of Otabek, but Yuri's couldn't imagine his heart would be beating any more if he had tried to work his way between Otabek's legs. Not that he  _would_ , but…

"I'm not going to do anything," the blond found himself saying. "Like, you don't have to worry about me trying to force you, or…"

"I know."

"Or… I mean, we haven't been dating long and I know there's a competition like Katsudon said, but even if there wasn't, I wouldn't, I mean..."

"Yura, I know."

"Is this okay? Are you okay?"

"I'm great. I probably feel as great as you did last year when you won gold."

"Yeah?" Yuri asked, smiling. "So we can kiss for a little longer?"

Instead of answering, Otabek huffed out a laugh, running his fingers through Yuri's hair again. "I love you, Yura."

"Yeah?"

"So you can kiss me whenever you want," Otabek said, squeezing his side. "However long you'd like. Whatever you want."

Yuri kissed him again, but pulled back, quickly. He liked the look on Otabek's face, like mild surprise, like he expected them to make out for a while. But he didn't look angry that they stopped, like he really didn't care if Yuri did stop them for good this time.

"What about what you want?"

Otabek laughed, finally moving his hand from Yuri's hair to wrap around his shoulders, pulling the younger teen down, holding the blond's face against his chest. Yuri struggled, half-heartedly, but Otabek just held him there. Yuri tried to turn his head to kiss the other man's biceps, but he couldn't.

"I literally waited five years for you to notice me," Otabek said, still laughing. Yuri liked the feel of it against his face. "Seriously, we could sit and do nothing. We could make out. We could get married and adopt kids. I love you, Yura. And I just want to be with you, and I'll take whatever you give me."

"Yeah, but if you hate it…"

"I definitely  _don't_  hate it."

For a long time, Yuri laid against Otabek, silent, listening to his heartbeat. It calmed down from the first time he had pulled Yuri to him, but now it  _thudded_  steadily, loud and consistent. When he stopped struggling, Otabek let up, not holding him in place, but moving his arms lower, just draped over Yuri's shoulders, holding him, but not keeping him there.

Yuri felt his old thoughts swelling up inside him. Otabek could be happy with someone else, loving someone else, someone easier. Yuri would get them in trouble, drag them down. Why would Otabek love Yuri when he could love anyone else?

But instead of questioning it, he chose to believe. Otabek loved him. Otabek would stay with him. And he would do whatever he could to not push Otabek away.

"Hey, Beka?"

"Yeah?" He asked, fingers still lazily petting Yuri's hair, like this was okay, too. Like he liked having the blond against his chest, cozy and warm as much as he liked kissing him, skating with him, eating with him.

"I love you, too."

Otabek let up, and Yuri moved back, putting his elbows on either side of his boyfriend, looking down at him. This time, Otabek didn't laugh, but he was smiling.

"I know, Yura."

This time, when they started kissing, Yuri didn't pull back.

* * *

Yuri still wasn't very tired, and he knew it wasn't too late, but he was probably bored enough to at least pretending to sleep. Otabek was lying on the bed with all the pillows under him, Yuri's Switch balanced on his chest. Yuri had his head on Otabek's stomach, lying on his back with his legs dangling off the edge of the bed, his tablet on his own stomach, flipping through different videos on YouTube.

"Is it too late to change my gala performance?" Yuri joked.

Otabek laughed. "Well, you waited until the night before last year, so probably not."

"I'm kidding. I like the one I have this year," Yuri said, but he paused the song, thinking he heard something out in the corridor. With his own music paused, he suddenly heard music basically just outside his room. It didn't take him a long to place the voices, two grown-ass adults shushing each other.

Then the card reader outside his room beeped, and the door swung open.

For a second, he almost thought that Victor and Katsuki were drunk by the way they spilled into his room. The blond rolled his head to the side, but he wasn't leaving the world's most comfortable pillow to greet them. He did look at his tablet. It was only about eight o'clock, but he was kind of surprised to see them, with all their talk about beauty sleep. Katsuki shut the door, and Victor shushed him.

"Are you drunk?" Yuri asked.

"No," Victor insisted, bounding toward the bed. He jumped on, snuggling up to Otabek's side. Yuri felt the man's cool hand on his head, moving through his hair. "We just thought we'd see what you were up to."

"We're clearly very busy," Otabek said, the  _Zelda_  music still playing. He hadn't even paused it. Yuri never loved him more.

Katsuki sat on the bed next to Yuri, lying back slower than Victor had. He put his head against Otabek's chest, but turned to face the blond, looking at his tablet. Otabek didn't seem to mind when the older man laid on him, either, all four of them in a pile on the bed. Victor paused the music that was streaming through his phone. So Yuri resumed his. For a while, Victor was content to rest his head against Otabek's shoulder, listening as the teen explain the video game. Yuri and Yuuri watched music videos, complaining about the choreography.

"Wow," Victor said. "Sometimes I used to wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn't dedicated my life to skating and actually tried to be a teenager. But now I see that the two of you, young and in the prime of life, chose to do with your free time, and I'm disappointed."

"You two told us not to do anything," Otabek deadpanned.

"Well, like, but don't you do fun couple things?" Victor whined, his arm moving around Otabek's middle, brushing against Katsudon's shoulder.

"What do couples do?" Otabek asked. "We're hanging out aren't we?"

"We made out earlier," Yuri said, holding up his fist.

"Nice," Yuuri said, knocking their fists together. "We did, too."

Victor sighed, nuzzling into Otabek. "You're so boring."

"Well, we're all barred from drinking and anything too strenuous that may make us sore for tomorrow," Otabek added. "What are we supposed to do? Host our own dance party?"

Yuri paused the music, turning to look up at Otabek. "I think I have a dancing game for the Switch."

Otabek groaned, but Yuri could hear him saving his game. A second later, the console was passed back to the original owner, and Yuri took it to his bag, switching out the game. Yuuri and Yuri both jumped all over that, enjoying several dances before they could convince the other two to join. Yuri liked  _Kissing Strangers_ , and Katsuki liked  _The Way I Are_ , but both of them had to tap out during  _Carmen Overture_ , because all the ladies freaking skated to Carmen and trying to blindly follow the screen was kind of hilarious compared to the flawless way the ladies skated to it.

They managed to lead the other two men to the floor with  _Despacito_ , but Victor insisted on dancing  _How Far I'll Go_  alone.

By the time he and Katsudon collapsed on the bed again, Yuri was exhausted from laughing so hard. Victor had taken over the music again, and Victor and Otabek were doing the worlds least sexy-attempted seducing dance, which kept the other two laughing on the bed, clutching at each other. It felt so strange, watching two people so accomplished at dancing (specifically Eros dancing), awkwardly stepping around each other to a Justin Timberlake song. Yuri's chest ached, he was laughing so hard.

Absently, Yuri felt bad for the people who had the room under him after the past two hours or so.

When the song ended, a slower one started, so the four of them curled up together on the bed. Besides the fact that two of them were a lot bigger, it was still similar to before. It didn't really mater who was who. They were a family. Yuri was left heaving, practically suffocating to catch his breath in the middle of a pile of bodies, and he'd never been warmer, happier in his life.

A few minutes later, when they regained their breathing and realized that they burned too many calories for the night before a competition, that Yuri became of aware of his friend's bodies; he was absently rubbing at Victor's shoulder, smelling the shampoo of Katsuki under his chin, feeling Otabek's arm around his stomach.

"Hey, I got you something."

Yuri sat up, detangling himself from his friends before hopping off the bed. He moved to his bag, opening the front pocket. For a second, he held the four bracelets in his hand. He didn't  _have_  to show them, he could turn around, flip them off, and laugh at the awkward joke. But he took a breath in, clenched the cords in his hands, before walking back to the bed, stepping back on it, and sitting cross-legged near his friends' knees. They sat up, mirrored his position so closely that their knees touched: Victor on his left, Otabek on his right, and Katsuki right across from him.

He held out his hand in the space between them and opened, palm up, displaying the four bracelets. The three men moved closer, like they couldn't see, then in unison, they were reaching forward, each grabbing the bracelet with his country's colors, chattering over top of each other. Yuri couldn't understand what they were saying, not fully sure they were speaking English, but he wasn't sure if his senses were just playing tricks on him. It did that, sometimes, when he was nervous.

Sometimes, before he went on to skate, he couldn't hear anything, either.

"Oh, wait," Victor said, both white, blue, and red bracelets in his hands. He pushed one back toward Yuri. "This one is yours, with the kitten charm, huh? Mine's the cute puppy, right?"

"Yeah," Yuri felt himself breath, but couldn't hear himself. He looked down at his own bracelet in his hand, closing his fist around it.

"Mine's a bear," Otabek said, struggling to latch the lobster clip around his left wrist with just his right hand. After a second of struggling, he held his hand out, showing the other two.

Katsuki handed his to Victor, but held out his wrist. The Russian clipped it easily, turning it over. "And yours is a cute little piggy, Yuuri."

"I meant it…" Yuri started, looking desperately up at his friend. "I meant it more because of the Katsudon, and it wasn't until after I bought it and had half of it done that I remembered you said you didn't like it."

"I know it's with love," Katsuki said, grinning down at it, thumb rubbing over the small pig charm. "Victor still calls me a piggy sometimes too, but it's teasing, you know. Not vicious."

"Gross," Yuri shot out, automatic. He looked back down, at his own bracelet, feeling the braid against his fingers, feeling the small imperfections where he had messed up. His friends had all put them on willingly, and he felt himself breathing again. "I just learned how to do it a few days ago, so I didn't have time to practice. So I hope they're okay…"

"They're amazing for your first time," Katsuki said. "When Mari tried to teach me when we were kids, they were terrible."

"Is it a certain kind of friendship bracelet?" Victor asked, and together, Yuuri and Yuri explained kumihimo, and the blond even dug out the loom to help explain it to Victor. After declaring he wanted to try it sometime, they felt silent again. Yuri felt Otabek's hand go over his, and the older teen pulled the blond's hand toward him. Otabek let go, and Yuri felt his bracelet gone from his hand. He watched as his boyfriend strapped it over his left wrist.

"You don't have to wear them or anything. It's not like I slaved over them or anything," Yuri found himself saying, looking down at his own bracelet, on his own wrist. It was just him, then, but when he looked up, they were, after all, still wearing them. So that means it wasn't just him – it was  _them._  All four of them.

"Shut up," Otabek said. "I'm never taking it off."

"Yuuko's the only other person who made me one," Katsuki admitted. "I appreciate it."

Victor just gripped Yuri's thigh, just above his knee, and squeezed.

They hung out together for a while longer, sitting together talking mindlessly. As they talked, Yuri noticed that they were slinking down in bed, growing tired, and before he knew it, they were all cuddled up together once more.

"Hey," Yuri said. "Are you two gonna sleep here tonight, or are you going back to your room?"

Victor groaned, but it was Katsuki who answered, "We should probably go back, huh? We don't all really fit together anymore."

"We seem to fit together fine," Yuri said, running his hand through Katsuki's hair.

"Yeah," he said. "But we can all cram into a bed in my family's hotel tomorrow night. It's bigger than this. After we walk away with metals, Mari will give us a ride back to Hasetsu, and we can soak in the onsen and sleep like we used to."

"Promise?" Yuri asked, and he felt the older man nod.

It wasn't long after that Victor and Katsuki left, full of hugs and love, like they wouldn't see each other first thing tomorrow. It was a weird mix of belonging – Yuri still felt like Victor and Katsudon were his kids, but now that they were older, they viewed Otabek and Yuri the same way – and it was only when they shut the door that the blond thought about how they got the keycard to his room at all.

But then Otabek was pulling him to the bathroom, and he didn't care anymore.

They brushed their teeth together, and when they moved back to the bed, Otabek held the covers back for him.

Never, in the history of competition, had Yuri ever felt so warm falling asleep. He never had the comfort of another body next to him, nevertheless a person he so loved and admired. And maybe it did take him a little longer to fall asleep than usual. For one, he had a major competition tomorrow. Second, he was still adjusting to hearing another person's breathing, feeling another person's warmth.

But mostly, he just felt warm and safe and  _happy_  for the first time before his free program. Who cared if he grew? Who cared if he sucked? Otabek would still love him. Victor and Yuuri would still be his friends. And for the first time ever before a competition, Yuri fell asleep without worrying about the numbers.

* * *

Their warmup routine was the same as it always was. It didn't matter that Yuri woke up in Otabek's arms, they were separated now, slowly warming up and stretching out as the other skaters took the ice. When it was time to change, all six of them were silent. When they moved toward the ice, they seemed like a unified six, and Yuri didn't want anyone to fail. But three of them wouldn't get an official metal.

Leo did alright. It was his personal best, but it didn't touch the rest of them.

Phichit messed up a jump, but even he was pretty good.

Otabek was solid, as always. And Katsuki had been flawless. Yuri hadn't meant to watch his performance in the back of the arena, and Yakov had yelled at him when he took out his earbuds to listen to the commentators, but Yuuri had raised his arms on every triple. The Japanese man was always a beautiful skater, but this, Yuri felt pride in. This was his doing, his teaching, but ultimately, Katsudon's score to beat.

Then it was Victor's turn, but Yuri wasn't out there to see it. He literally stepped into the arena as Victor was leaving the ice. He tried not to look at the crowd, tried to block out Victor's scores, but when he stepped out onto the ice, he couldn't help it. He took his headphones off just a bit too early.

Yuri was gripping the edge of the rink so hard his knuckles were white. He was looking right at Yakov, could see his mouth moving, but he couldn't understand what he was saying. He was seeing fine, his heart was only racing like it ever did before he skated, with anticipation not anxiety, but he couldn't  _hear_  anything.

He was the last one to skate, and just as he figured last night, three of the four of them would end up with metals. Victor was still in the kiss-and-cry – Yakov only left him to try to give Yuri this pep talk because Katsuki was with him – but the crowd was dead silent.

Victor Nikiforov was in third place, after Otabek in second, and Katsudon in first. The latter had broken his world record  _again_  with his free program.

Yuri's eyes found his friend. He was standing up, waving and grinning, like he wasn't even upset, but even as the crowd cheered for him (finally, fucking finally, Yuri could hear again), he couldn't help but notice that Yuuri was still sitting down, his face pink, looking up at Victor like he was about to be in trouble.

Victor grabbed his arm, dragging him up to standing. He kissed Katsudon's cheek, ever the loving fiancé and coach, and when Yuri looked back at Yakov, the man knew that Yuri hadn't heard a word he said.

Instead, Yuri looked at Lilia.

"I'm beautiful," he said.

"You are."

"I'm  _strong_ ," he said.

"You are."

"And no matter what happens right now, I'm still beautiful and strong, and I'll keep competing, even if I keep growing. And I'll fucking  _destroy_  them."

"We don't use such ugly words, Yurochka," Lilia said, but she put her hand over his and squeezed. "But you will."

Yuri smiled.

His name was called over the audio system, ( _He was the Grand Prix Champion at only fifteen years old, can Yuri Plisetsky defend his title and become a two-time campion?_ )so he tapped the edge of the rink and turned around, skating off to center ice. The crowd was still screaming for Victor, but that was okay.

Taking his time getting to the center of the ice, Yuri looked back at the kiss-and-cry. Victor and Katsudon had already left, and they were standing at the edge of the rink, both of them still in their skates. Otabek was in his skates, too, standing next to them, but when when Yuri finally took his spot, it was the three of them he heard:  _"Davai, Yuri!"_

Yuri did his free program better than he ever had. Even if Katsudon broke a record, and although Yuri raised his arms, too, and it increased Yuri's difficulty, he knew his free program wouldn't beat his friend's.

But after he was done, as he skated toward the opening in the rink, scooping up a tiger plush on his way, it might have been enough to win. He  _did_  have the lead going in, after all.

Sitting in the kiss-and-cry, with Yakov on one side and Lilia on the other, and his friends just off to his right, Yuri had never noticed how  _long_  it took the judges to tally up his scores. One second before the announcer said the results, Yuri looked, and their current ranking order changed on the wall.

He had been in last place – he was the only one who hadn't done his free program yet, so that was obvious – but now his name was in second. His free program was a personal best, he noted absently, but it wasn't enough to win gold.

Yuri looked back down.

Victor was wrapping his arms around Katsudon, and even Otabek was patting his back, but Katsuki was looking back at Yuri. The blond was surprised that Victor wasn't on one knee demanding an end to their long engagement and proposing they go find a church right then and there.

When the blond stood up, he heard Yakov and Lilia yelling at him, but he walked away from them. He almost expected Yakov to grab his arm, hold him back, but as he stepped out of the kiss and cry and moved toward Katsudon with his fists gripped tight at his sides, he must have been moving too fast for the old man.

Yuuri was blurry, and that was when Yuri noticed he was crying. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around his friend and putting his forehead on Katsuki's shoulder. "You're not going to retire, are you?"

"Nah," Yuri heard the other man say, felt his arms wrap back around him. "I have a taste for beating you now, so I guess I can stick around."

"Yeah, right. Russia will slaughter Japan at the Olympics," Yuri laughed, and tried to pull back, but Katsudon held him tight.

"Congratulations," Yuuri said. "You know who didn't have two metals in the senior division when he was sixteen?"

"Hey," Victor whined. "Leave me out of this. I still have more than the two of you combined."

Finally, Katusdon let him go. But as soon as he was free, he had Otabek's arm around him, pulling him closer, kissing the side of his head.

Soon after that, the carpet and podium was set up and an official was shooing them back onto the ice. They skated to the podium together. They stepped up into their spots like they were supposed to. An official with their metals was walking toward them, and they were waving, but over the applause, Katsudon said, "Mari saved us the biggest room. You're still coming to Hasetsu, right?"

"Duh," Yuri said.

After they got their metals, they were instructed to skate toward the line of cameras. Yuri couldn't remember last year at all. Everything after they announced the scores was a blur, but he remembered watching Victor the year before that. He'd looked graceful then, but skating just behind Katsuki, Yuri bet that Yuuri was giving a run for his money.

When they took their spots, Katsudon kissed his own gold metal, in a way he was sure the man would be embarrassed about later, but it was a pretty good impression of his fiancé.

After a few seconds of them holding their metals to the cameras, Katsudon dropped his back to his chest and reached out his hands, pulling both Yuri and Otabek to him. The blond went, not so much giddy from his own placing as he was thrilled for his friend, and put his hand on Katusdon's back. A second later, he felt another hand over his. He expected Otabek to pull away, but instead, the man's fingers wrapped around his, and Yuri felt his grin grow even wider.

(A shot of the three of them from behind had more hits on social media than one of the three of them from the front. Otabek swore he didn't regret doing it, even if he blushed  _every single time_  a reporter asked him about why he did it. That was okay. Yuri knew why he did it.)

When they finally were allowed off the ice, Yuri figured Katsudon would offer the metal to Victor like he had with the silver the year before, but instead, the three of them were pulled into a hug. Victor was crying like a giant, stupid child, sobbing,  _"My babies, my babies,"_  which was both embarrassing and offensive.

After a second, he let Otabek and Yuri slink off, but he wouldn't let go of Katsudon, even when the official came to get his metal back so it could be engraved. Yuri thought Victor was going to fight him and that they would pry Yuuri's metal from Victor's cold dead hands.

They went back to the locker room before sitting down on opposite benches, facing each other, taking off their skates. "At least they can get fucking married now," Yuri said, looking down. Nobody else was lurking around. Phichit and Leo must have already left, and Victor and Katsudon were making fools of themselves, as per usual. Even speaking quietly, Yuri's voice echoed off the lockers.

"Yeah," Otabek said. "Are you happy?"

"Yeah, of course," Yuri said, pulling his other skate off and letting it drop to the floor next to the other one. He looked up at his friend with a frown on his face. "Of course, I'm happy for them. They're still my kids, kind of. They're bigger and more annoying, now, but…"

"No," Otabek said, dropping his skate, leaning forward, brushing Yuri's hair out of his face. "Are  _you_  happy? Right now?"

Instead of  _twelve one-hundredths_ , Yuri could already hear the new one bouncing around in his head.  _Second place_. It wasn't the first loss that he'd had in the past year. Phichit had beaten both Otabek and Yuuri at Four Continents last year, and Victor had a really good shot at beating Yuri at Europeans, but he knew what Otabek meant.

"I thought he might retire," Yuri admitted. "He told Victor  _one more year_. He just wanted another shot at the Grand Prix gold. But he said he was going to stick around, so yeah, I'm happy. What about you?"

"Third is always happier than second," Otabek said, putting his forehead against Yuri's. "And I made up some ground."

"Yeah, you did," Yuri admitted, letting his eyes close. "You were only four points behind us. Four points is nothing. That's a popped jump… a quad to a triple."

"So just like you're gunning for Yuuri, I'm going to get you, too."

"That's not a healthy basis for a relationship," Yuri said. He felt Otabek's chuckle, felt the soft press of his lips. "You'll resent me."

"You mean, you'll resent me, when I win," Otabek corrected him. This time, Yuri laughed.

"I'd be proud. Not everyone can say they're dating a Grand Prix gold medalist," Yuri said.

"I can. Gold  _and_  silver. Lucky me," Otabek murmured, pulling him in, again. Yuri put one hand on Otabek's forearm, the one holding his hair back, and put the other on the back of Otabek's neck, holding him in this time.

* * *

_Epilogue_   _– Grand Prix Gala Exhibition_

Tonight, they would drink. Or well,  _Yuri_  wouldn't drink at the banquet, but he could only imagine the others. Technically, because they were in Japan and not Russia, Otabek couldn't drink either, but none of that would matter. The banquet would almost be like that week they spent together in November, frantic parents worrying about their obnoxious children. Only this time, Yuuri and Victor would be taller than them, significantly heavier than they were, and absolutely trashed, but still.

Instead, Yuri had been looking forward to this Gala more than he ever had before… including last year, when he was determined to show everyone he could do both  _Agape_  and  _Eros_.

The girls were going first, and Yuri kept his sneakers on, even if he was dressed in the third of four costume that Otabek had noticed. He was in two gala performances, but Otabek, Victor, and Katsuki also had four costumes. For the life of him, he couldn't figure out who the other three would be performing with.

As he sat in the low stands with the other competitors, his  _Russian_  warm up over the costume, he didn't have to wait long to figure out.

To be honest, it was kind of weird he was up there with just Leo and Phichit.

Sara took the rink in exhibition. She had on an oversized black t-shirt and a skirt, something that was fitted to be competition-worthy, but didn't appear to be. It looked more like she was lounging around. And to add to the effect, she was dragging a chair behind her. She sat it at middle stage, then spun around it a few times, smiling at the crowd, before sitting down.

There were four points-of-entry at the rink, and even though the girls were skating, even though Sara was already out on the ice, from across the rink, Yuri saw Otabek. He was in the least formal of his costumes. Essentially, he was wearing slacks and a costume-fitted shirt that didn't look like it was tucked in but wouldn't ride up and show his stomach. It was red, he had a rose in his hand, and he amazingly handsome in it. Checking the other entrances to the rink, Yuri saw Katsuki and Victor to the right, Mickey and Emil to the left, and suddenly, he felt left out.

But Sara was in her twenties. He was only sixteen.

When the music started, Yuri felt his face grow warm.

" _I was busy thinking 'bout boys."_

At first, Sara pretended to be distracted, then stood up and skated. After a bit, Otabek skated on the ice. Yuri had never seen his boyfriend skate with anyone before, but after giving his rose to Sara, they skated a bit together, but eventually, Katsuki came on, and Otabek skated off.

Yuuri was an actor; there was no other way to play it. How could that guy be the most awkward son of a bitch Yuri knew and skate with Sara like he actually was enamored with her? But it looked so real, and as the song progressed, the only thing that brought Yuri back to real life was when Victor skated on, waving at the crowd when they applauded him. At first, Yuri thought Victor was supposed to take Katsuki's place as he had Otabek's, but when the Russian grabbed the Japanese skater by the tie and dragged him off the ice (as Yuuri waved back at Sara, and the crowd laughed), the girl went back to skating alone.

Then there was Emil, who also sold the performance, but who was promptly chased off by Mickey. Sara sat down, frustrated and sad, until Mila skated on from the front, where the stands had hidden her from Yuri, and offered her a hand. They skated around together, and  _maybe_  it was supposed to be a girl power thing about how lady loves won't ever leave like men will, but that wasn't how it felt. Sara was grinning at Mila, and when the song was over and they took their bows, they hugged.

Yuri was only a  _little_  jealous he hadn't been included.

The blond was left alone as his friends changed for their performances. He went down to get his skates on not long after that.

Even though Yuuri was the reigning champion, he insisted on going first for their exhibition. It was the only way for Yuri to have enough time to change into his own gala costume without missing Victor's performance.

When they announced Katsuki, the Japanese skater moved out to center ice, waving for a second, but never took a spot in the middle. Instead, he skated a lazy circle around the rink, looking down at the fake cellphone prop they had made. Yuri put his own on the partition between the ice and the judges. After the intro, Yuuri skated past the blond, and Yuri chased after him. The point of the whole act was to show their friendship. The blond really did feel like he would do whatever he could to prove to his friend that he was  _gorgeous_ , that he was worth it, even if Katsudon didn't believe it himself. It felt natural to skate like that, to show that they were friends, that he loved his rival in the only way friends could love each other.

So Yuri grabbed the fake-phone, throwing it into the crowd.

Who gives a shit about Victor? Tonight was about them.

Even though nobody had known what they were planning, and there wasn't any actual lifts or throws or anything in their performance, Yuri had convinced Tarasova and Morozov to teach them a little bit about synchronizing as pairs would. A great pairs team like them could pull off a triple-something in combination, and knowing both Yuri and Yuuri would be in the Olympics (and skating multiple exhibition skates that night), they agreed that they should stick to triples too. It didn't take them long to sync up, raising their arms and jumping side-by-side in unison, but it did take more than a few tries to get them both to spin at the same speed.

Morozov insisted it was the height difference, but Tarasova countered that it was the fact they both secretly wanted to over-rotate into a quad. She was quick to chastise, reminding them a pairs skate wasn't about one-upping the other, but a team competing as a unified whole, and they tried harder to sync together after that.

Then, their side-by-sides came naturally. So did their synchronized steps.

Yuri refused to do lifts, because he was smaller and didn't want his feet leaving the ice for any time longer than he could propel himself, and Katsuki agreed, equally afraid of throwing or dropping his friend.

So after skating the first chorus, it was Yuri's turn to play the downtrodden, leaning on the edge of the rink with his own fake phone. It wasn't hard to act. Their anxiety was similar. If Katsudon was more obvious with it, it was because his manifested in a lack of self-confidence. Yuri's showed in anger and false bravado. Even in their performance, as his friend tried to get his attention, Yuri ignored him for the phone. Katsuki did the same as Yuri had (tossing it into a screaming crowd), before they started skating together again.

Because who cared if Otabek had to wake up alone once and a while, too? Tonight was about  _them_.

" _I just want to spend my nights with you."_

It was different for Yuri than any other performance, competition or exhibition. It felt that night out at the bar, when he had punched that guy. But instead of Victor and Otabek being there, it was just the two of them. It had always been the two of them, even from that moment in the bathroom. They were competitors, sure. They would always be. Yuri wasn't sure what he would do without Katsudon, a thought that had terrified him for two years, now. Who could compete? Who, in the male figure skating crowd, would ever take Yuuri's place when he retired, throwing quad after reckless quad, keeping Yuri on his toes?

But who would ever be a better friend?

Otabek would go out with him, sure. They'd go to a bar and go back home, making out and snuggling under ten thousand blankets. Victor would stay with him, always. They'd get food Yuri shouldn't eat and gossip about their boyfriends and other skaters, and when they went back to one of their apartments, they'd make a fort out of sheets and blankets, sleeping near each other, comforting each other as siblings would.

But Yuuri wasn't a lover, a sibling. He was a rival, an ally, a friend.

And their performance matched that. Their spins, their jumps, their skating across the rink was perfectly in sync. It wasn't the loving routine Katsudon had done with Victor. It was playful, like they had been taking shots and dancing all night. And when they came together at the end, knocking fists together before spinning, ending with arms crossed, back to back, Yuri stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily.

The crowd was cheering, but he couldn't hear them. He could only feel the way Yuuri's back rose and fell with his breaths behind him.

They spun apart, taking hands to bow. Katsudon didn't let go of him until they were practically off the ice, and somehow, Yuri was sure the audience understood what they were trying to say. They were applauding so loud they must have got it. Even Victor and Otabek, who were  _missing_  from the program, and missing with purpose, were applauding them.

And before Yuuri went to Victor, he hugged the blond first.

There was a raw feeling deep inside the blond so needing to change for his own skate was a great reason to leave the other three alone. As he walked away, he could hear Leo's music start, but he needed to change, and more so, he needed a minute, just  _one minute_ , to gather himself, to compose himself, so he could get back out there and skate his own program.

It was halfway through Phichit's performance when he returned, so he stood by his friends. Otabek would be on next, then Yuri, then finally Victor, but the older Russian still had his warm up on.

Otabek was already waiting at the edge of the rink, shaking out his legs, as Phichit's came toward them, leaving the ice. Yuri was kind of bummed about missing Leo and Phichit, but there was nothing to help it. He couldn't change out of his costume for Yuuri's performance any faster.

Cameras not on them, Yuri put his hand at the small of Otabek's back, just off-centered, feeling the muscles at his lats just under the costume. "How are you feeling?"

Otabek nodded, turning around. His eyes darted around the crowd, and Yuri wondered if there would ever be a time when the two of them could be like Victor and Katsuki. He didn't want to have to worry about the cameras, the people, the  _onlookers_. Lowering his eyes to the blond's face, Otabek smiled, gripping Yuri's elbow, not dragging him away. It was always hard to tell if Otabek was embarrassed of him, specifically, or if he was just a private person in general.

"Don't look away from me."

"Isn't that the bullshit line Katsudon tells Victor to keep him around?" Yuri tried to joke, but Otabek gave him a serious look.

"Please," Otabek said. "I need you to watch."

When Otabek left to go to center ice, Katsuki and Victor were near him. He knew they were Otabek's friends, that Otabek had sort of helped raise them for that week, too, and somehow, Yuri knew this was meant for them. For the three of them. He leaned his elbows against the railing, knocking shoulders with Yuuri, pointing to the ice as Otabek skated around.

"Pay attention," Yuri said. "Pretend you're still a kid and in awe of him."

"I'm still in awe of him," Katsuki said, leaning forward on his elbows, stepping back, lowering himself to Yuri's height. "He's going to kick our ass in a year or two, just watch. Especially with Yakov and Lilia coaching him now. He has your confidence and my stamina. Plus, he's got that chest."

Victor started stammering, but Yuri frowned. "That's  _my_  chest. Or well, it belongs to me."

Yuuri laughed, mollifying both Russians. "I know. I'm just saying. He's a force to be reckoned with. We don't have a lot of time left before he peaks."

The blond sort of knew what Katsuki meant.

Otabek looked handsome as ever as he skated to center ice. It was strange, Yuri thought, after seeing him in his short and free costumes from last year and this year, how he looked now. It was a costume, in the same sense that Yuri's gala performance was a costume. Otabek had been right, his jeans weren't real jeans (because who could fucking spin and jump in jeans), but Otabek looked as relaxed in what he was wearing now as he did when they were practicing.

Otabek wasn't one to have a ton of nerves before a performance, even if they called him a  _jumper_  and not an  _artist_ , but still. He had on normal black performance pants and a soft, light purple dress shirt under a vest. It almost seemed like a less-formal attire for a wedding reception, when people got drunk and took off their suit coat, or like what a guy may wear on a first date. It was classy, but not incredibly formal.

If Yuri wasn't already in love, looking at him as he took center ice, making sure to turn, so he was facing where Yuri was, waiting in the wings, that would be enough.

He didn't recognize the song immediately, which surprised him. He was sure Otabek would do a remix he had been working on. Instead, it was an acoustic of something, artistic, a girl singing. Otabek skated around the ice flawlessly, and it was Victor who sighed, Yuuri who wrapped an arm around the blond and pulled him close as Otabek skated past, as the chorus hit.

" _Wild horses couldn't drag me away."_

Otabek got blurry, but Yuuri just held him tighter.

To be honest, Yuri couldn't remember a lot of it, and he thanked god he would be able to look it up on YouTube later. He was still half in competition mode, trying desperately not to cry at Otabek's declaration of love for him,  _for them_ , which he was showing to the world, but it was hard. Nobody knew, of course. Nobody would know that Otabek's shaky Beilman was an homage to Yuri, to the time they spent together, time training together. Nobody would  _really_  know that the quad flip he threw near the end was both a tribute to Victor and Yuuri, his kids, his  _friends_.

Nobody else could see it for the vow that Yuri saw it as.

_It means he won't leave us. No matter what_.

When Otabek left the ice, Yuri was still trying to keep from crying, but when his boyfriend wrapped his arms around him at the side of the rink, Yuri hugged him back, knowing they were probably the focus of all the cameras, but he couldn't help it. Let the reporters wonder why Yuri Plisetsky was sobbing after Otabek Altin's Grand Prix Gala performance, why Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov hugged the couple, why they needed a minute before Yuri could take the ice.

But when Yuri did take the ice, he sort of felt free.

He wasn't worried; he wasn't anxious and angry. Otabek would always be there for him. Probably, Katsuki and Victor would be there too. Yuri had friends, he had a family, and it didn't matter if he grew to be seven feet and weighed so much he couldn't jump a quad anymore. Yuri would always be beautiful. He would always be strong.

He would always be loved by his friends and family.

Yuri took his spot at center ice and waited for the music to start.

The piano part started, but Yuri didn't move until the lyrics started.

" _You know I'm back, like I never left."_

But when he started, he was doing a modified version of his junior program. Instead of starting it as he had, he jumped right to the step sequence. When the first part of the verse was over, he switched to the step sequence at the end of the  _Agape_  program. It timed perfectly, he knew, to end with his arms raised at the end, as if he just finished  _Agape,_ with the start of the chorus.

On the ice, he paused, letting the chorus wash over him. He lowered his arms slowly, looking around like his program was over, and he wasn't sure what to do now.

It was kind of how he really felt.

" _I feel glorious, glorious… got a chance to start again._

_I was born for this, born for this. It's who I am. How could I forget?"_

By the second line, he was moving again, but it was a lap around the rink, building up speed. He grinned, opened his arms to the audience, and reveled in their applause of him.

Yuri did his first jump easily, raising both arms in a triple flip, as he had promised Yakov not to do any quads at the gala and risk injury.

By the end of the chorus, the previous fears he had been trying to show were melting away. He wasn't who he had been. He wasn't the junior champion, clawing his way to gold in his senior debut. He wasn't the guy who made his rinkmate choreograph his programs. He was a winner, a champion, but in his own right.

So in the second verse, he tried to show that. He acted out his boxing moves. He tried to imitate Otabek's strong skating, but he could still do a beilman, so he couldn't resist. He hoped that he was showing the crowd,  _his friends_ , what he felt.

Yuri Plisetsky hadn't won two Grand Prix finals in a row. He wasn't comfortable, yet, with his new and ever-growing body, his height, his weight. His arms were bigger now than they ever had been, and his chest was getting broader. But he was fighting. If he would subject himself to the prima ballerina treatment to beat Katsuki at fifteen, at seventeen, he would explore new avenues.

He would grow bigger, stronger…. More beautiful.

" _When I open my eyes, hope I see you shine._

_We're planting our flag. They don't understand… the world is up for grabs."_

He wouldn't fucking quit. Not now, not ever. This was a new chance. He would start over. He would sell himself, his soul and body, to someone new if he had to. But in the end, Yuri knew he had another five, ten,  _fifteen_  years left in this sport. He wouldn't let Alina overshadow him. He wouldn't let any new, male, Russian teen take away what was his.

Yuri was the future of male skating  _period_ , Russian or no. Kids watching him yesterday, today, tomorrow, would know that he would be a force to reckon with. If Evgeni Pleshekenko could skate at the Olympic level until he was thirty-one, Yuri would gladly skate until thirty-five.

Make it forty.

" _I made it through the darkest, pouring nights._

_Now I see the sun rise."_

Fuck them all. Yuri Plisetsky didn't quit.

He was an ever-evolving, ever-growing  _monster_ , and he was fucking  _glorious_. He'd never let them forget it.

So as the song melted into the ending piano part, Yuri slowed, stepping delicately, back to basics to center ice, holding his arm up delicately, but pointing at his friends. He was relying on them to help him through this, sure. But he was coming for them,  _gunning_  for them, and they had to know that too.

When the music stopped, the crowd erupted, and Yuri was surprised.

This had been a personal skate, emotional but only for himself. He had expected commentators to question his song choice, his wardrobe, his message, but the way the crowd clapped and stood, he felt like they knew what he meant. After all, everyone felt like this at some point, right? Nobody felt perfect always. Everyone had their weak moments.

They announced his name again, and he bowed, skating off to his friends.

In the commotion, coming from Otabek's declaration, to his own emotional promise to himself, he forgot Victor still had to go. After a quick hug, the eldest man was skating out on the ice. Once the cameras weren't on them, Yuri leaned on the barrier, feeling Otabek to his right and Katsuki to his left.

Oddly, when Victor set up his skate, he was facing to his right, a quarter turn away from them. There was a camera there that Victor seemed to be playing to when he took his opening pose with his head down. Just behind him from that view was the giant screen, displaying his name and the Russian flag. It had been displaying all of their names and countries throughout the entire Grand Prix Final, but Yuri hadn't really thought of it until Victor set it as his backdrop.

The opening piano started, and Victor started moving.

"What is with this kid?" Otabek joked. "First a song from  _The Evil Within_ , and now the song from  _Final Fantasy XV_. I'm sure Victor was never this cool before."

It was only then that Yuri recognized the song.

Victor was a rare skater where, when watching him, his jumps didn't seem to mater. His artistic skill was lightyears beyond anyone else, and when he moved around the ice, he was still playing to that one camera, never going too far off frame, making sure the back screen with his name stayed as the center, but it was beautiful, easy.

He seemed so light on the ice. The three other men skated with purpose, with a definite point-A and point-B. Otabek was strong, determined. Yuri would throw in a quad-triple-triple whenever, just to increase his technical score, and Katsuki was a strange mix of all of them with the stamina of a marathoner. But Victor skated like he wanted to, like he loved it.

_Who cares about winning? I just want to skate with my friends_.

He was beautiful to watch, mesmerizing.

" _No, I won't be afraid, just as long as you stand, stand by me."_

As soon as the chorus of  _"Darling, darling, stand by me,"_  started, the screen behind Victor lit up. It was a picture of him and Makkachin at the beach. And even though Victor was skating, Yuri's eyes fell to the screen, watching as the pictures flashed. There were a bunch of them. Victor and Chris hanging out one night, posing for the camera. Victor grinning while Yakov yelled at him. Victor and Phichit. Victor and Mila. Victor and Georgi.

Then, as the second verse started, there were even more.

There was a picture of Victor and Yuri when the blond had been ten or eleven, still a novice, and Victor was talking to him like he wasn't a champion, but a brother. There were pictures of Katsuki before Victor ever came to be his coach, pictures that only Victor could have taken, sneaky ones of Victor's stupid selfie-face with Katsuki skating in the background, a declaration that he had been a fan of Yuuri's before that drunken night. There was one of him and Otabek, posing together the year Victor had come in first and Otabek had come in third, before Yuri was even in the senior division.

Then there were more.

There weren't pictures of when they were kids, but there were ones before, ones Yuri didn't remember taking a picture of, the four of them the night that he had made the wish. But there was photographic proof, all of their faces tinted pink with the cold. There were pictures after, of Yuri and Katsudon dancing at the club before he punched that guy, of the four of them at the bar posing together.

There were pictures after, of Victor kissing Yuuri's ring in bed one lazy morning. Of Otabek cooking breakfast with his hair all sleep-mused. Of Yuri on his stomach in Otabek's Olympic jacket, reading on his bed, with Potya on one side and Makkachin on the other.

It was a declaration of love. But Yuri saw Victor and the screen blurring as his eyes watered, and he also knew it was a swan song.

This would be Victor's last year as a competitive skater.

As the musical interlude ended and Florence started singing again, the picture show went back to Victor's name, but under it, it had the name of every other skater Victor had skated with and considered a friend. He moved off to one side of the audience, reaching a hand up into the crowd, and from across the rink, he saw Christophe stand up, reaching down to him. He moved on to other skaters, and just as the final swell hit, Victor came to them. He stopped, for a second in front of them, but when he reached his hand out, Katsuki took it. Victor pulled him toward the opening, and they all took the hint. The three of them skated out with Victor.

The eldest man dragged them to center ice.

" _Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand by me?_

_Oh, stand by me. Stand by me."_

And at the center of the ice, with about thirty seconds left in the exhibition, Victor hugged Otabek. When he moved along, hugging Yuri, the blond felt the man's finger's in his hair, and heard Victor muttering softly in Russian about how much he loved him, how proud he was to consider him a friend. And then he moved to Katsuki.

But the song ended.

And Victor dropped to one knee.

And the crowd went fucking  _nuts_.

* * *

After the Grand Prix's Gala, Yuri knew they had separate things to do. In two weeks, Victor and Yuri had Russian nationals, which was the same week that Katsuki had the Japanese nationals. Otabek, too, would go home to Almaty, even though he was pretty much the only known skater in Kazakhstan (or, at least, the only one Yuri cared about). They would all officially get their placements on their Olympic Teams. Victor and Yuri would compete at European Nationals. Then Yuuri and Otabek would compete at Four Continents.

Then it was the Olympics.

But, until then, they had two weeks.

The Katsukis had insisted they stay a few days at Yu-Topia in order to celebrate the official engagement and pick an exact wedding day. To be honest, Yuri wasn't sure who was the most nervous. The Katsukis wanted a date before their son could do something stupid to make Victor leave, Yuuri himself wanted a date for the same reason, and Victor wanted a date (and soon), before the Katsukis realized that he was basically trash and refused to let their son marry him.

Yuri realized this time that it wasn't annoying, but actually really fucking cute and hilarious how Victor and Yuuri both thought the other was  _insane_  for settling for someone like him.

Otabek and Yuri were along for the ride, but it was nice. With all the attention on the other couple, nobody seemed to mind when they would lean against each other while eating diner or hold each other's hand under the water in the onsen.

Because even though the pink never left Yuri's face, he insisted it was because of the heat. Not the naked hand-holding. Because there was nothing sexual about nudity.

On a warm night, just before they were supposed to disembark to their separate countries to train for their separate nationals, Yuri suggested they walk to the park near the ocean.

The blond was hand-in-hand with his boyfriend, and Victor and Yuuri were behind them.

They paused at the edge of the pier on the route they took between Katsuki's house and Ice Castle Hasetsu and looked out at the ocean. It was the last time they would all be together for a while, but they would be back together soon.

For the first time, Yuri wasn't apprehensive about his goodbyes.

For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like they were four professional athletes, champions, Olympians, but just four friends hanging out, watching as the fog rolled in from the ocean.

Nobody was telling him who he was, or who he was supposed to be. Nobody was coaching him, looking at him, studying his height, his weight. Instead, he was with his friends. And for the first time, he really knew that they would love him, regardless, unconditionally.

It was overwhelming and calming at the same time

There were a ton of stars in the sky, and there wouldn't be a meteor shower tonight, so there was no way Yuri could mess this up again. But as he looked up at the stars, Otabek warm on his right, Katsuki warm on his left, Yuri couldn't help the thought as it repeated over and over in his head like a mantra.

_Spasibo, Spasibo, Spasibo. Thank you for my friends._

They talked. Victor voice washed over him, fingers rubbing through the bracelet Yuri had made him. Since he had given it to them, none of the other three had really taken it off except for when they were bathing, so Yuri kept his on, too. Otabek's hand was covered his, the taller teen nodding along with Victor. It wasn't until a few seconds later, when Yuri felt Yuuri loop his arm through his and rest his chin against his shoulder that he really even noticed how microscopic he felt.

It didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. The stars would still shine, and the seagulls would still call. And the four of them would always be friends.

The stars seemed to be blinking, shimmering in the distance, forever away but just barely out of reach.

And for the first time that Yuri could remember, he wasn't scared of the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Songs for the Gala:
> 
> Yuuri and Yuri: ["Nights With You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rq8xUq0MXo4) by Mo  
> Otabek: ["Wild Horses"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWQUzgx8aqE) by the Sundays  
> Yuri: ["Glorious"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSFz3NRSSc4) by Macklemore  
> Victor: ["Stand By Me"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=opJFVENPkog) by Florence and the Machine
> 
> Another cool thing to check out may be some of the performances mentioned elsewhere, which are from the 2017-2018 season. 
> 
> Jason Brown's [Hamilton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nq_otujYUdY) Short Program  
> Alina Zagitova's [Black Swan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l32eBNz676Q) Short Program:  
> Alinz Zagitova's [Don Quixote (Red Ballerina)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1UgFzoL4gKs) Free Program:  
> Tarasova & Morozov's [Candyman](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHpiEOvmcEM) Free Program:


End file.
